THE 

DAVID BELASCO 

ARRANGEMENT 

OF 

SHAKESPEARE'S 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 





Copyright N? 



CQEXKIGIO' DEEOSOk 




David Belasco 



THE 

MERCHANT OF VENICE 



A COMEDY 

BY 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

AS ARRANGED FOR THE CONTEMPORARY STAGE 
BY 

DAVID BELASCO 



Acted Under His Direction 
At the Lyceum Theatre, New York 

WITH 

DAVID WARFIELD 

In the Character of Shylock. 
December 21, 1922 



NEW YORK 

PRIVATELY PRINTED 

1922 



v^" 



Tlt^'^ 



COPYHIGHT, 1922, BT 

DAVID BELASCO 

All rights reserved. 



JAN -c 1223 

^C1A690823 



'-HI 



DEDICATED 

TO 

LOVEBS OF THE THEATBE EVEEYWHEEB 



PREFACE. 

All my life I have desired and purposed to produce 
The Plays of Shakespeaee. They were the chief part 
of my earliest study, and my love for them increased 
with my years. In youth it was my frequent privilege 
to see many of the best actors our Stage has known in 
their finest Shakespearean embodiments, and, sometimes, 
personating minor characters, to act in association with 
them. The first words that I ever spoke in the theatre 
were words of Shakespeare, — those of the little Richard, 
Duhe of York, in "King Richard III.," a part which, in 
childhood, I played at the old Theatre Royal, in Victoria, 
B. C, with the famous Charles Kean and Ellen Tree, 
his wife. 

Year by year my familiarity with the best Shake- 
spearean acting increased. Walter Montgomery (idol 
of my boyhood!) as Marc Antony, Benedict and Hot- 
spur; John McCullough as Brutus, Falconbridge and 
Lear; Lawrence Barrett as Hatnlet, lago and Cassius; 
Barry Sullivan as Richard the Third, Othello and Mac- 
beth; Adelaide Neilson as Juliet, Viola and Imogen; 
Edwin Booth as Othello, lago, Hamlet, Richard, Macbeth 
and Brutus,— those, and many others like to those, were 
objects of my constant and admiring study. Among 
the plays of Shakespeare in which I appeared during 
my theatrical novitiate, and which then were acted 
under my stage management — some of them many 
times— were ''Hamlet,*' "King Richard III., "Othello," 
"Romeo and Juliet," "Julius Caesar," "Macbeth," 
"King John," "King Lear," " Coriolanus, " "Cym- 

5 



6 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

beline," "Measure for Measure," "The Comedy of 
Errors," "Much Ado About Nothing," "A Midsummer 
Night's Dream," "The Taming of the Shrew," "As 
You Like It," "Twelfth Night" and "The Merchant of 
Venice." Among the great players of Shyloch for whom 
it has been my fortune to direct the stage and to rehearse 
the immortal drama of which he is the central and per- 
vasive figure are McCullough, Barrett, Sullivan, Booth, 
and — by no means least — William E. Sheridan. In vari- 
ous early barnstorming ventures of my own I indulged 
my dominant desire and presented "The Merchant" and 
some other of the Bard's great plays — with, be it said, 
a simplicity of scenic investiture which would cause pro- 
ductions made "in the Elizabethan manner" to appear 
as lavishly over-loaded with ornament! But such juve- 
nile endeavors do not count; and circumstances have 
not, until now, permitted me really to begin fulfillment 
of my ambitious purpose, — which I do with this oft- 
postponed but at last accomplished revival of "The Mer- 
chant of Venice," in which it is my privilege to present 
the leader of the American Stage, my dear friend Mr. 
David Warfield, in one of the most exacting of test parts. 
In Shakespeare's own words : "Joy be the consequence!" 
It is my earnest purpose to follow this revival with 
presentments of many other great plays of Shakespeare 
— among them "King Lear," with Mr. Warfield as the 
heart-broken and heart-breaking monarch of misery; 
' ' Eomeo and Juliet, " " King Henry V., " " Julius Cassar, ' ' 
"Twelfth Night," and a trilogy comprising "King Rich- 
ard II." and the First and Second Parts of "King Henry 
IV." The last named three plays were in great part 
arranged for my presentation by my friend the late 
William Winter, to whom I was, at the time of his la- 
mented death, under promise to produce them. They 
shall be brought forth as soon as it is possible for me 



PREFACE 7 

to do so. All these ventures must, in the very nature 
of things, be beset by great difficulties and must entail 
a staggering burden of expense. They can be carried 
to success only with the approval, the hearty and prac- 
tical encouragement, cooperation and support of the vast 
theatre-going public (which, in the past, has been so 
generously bestowed upon my enterprises) and of all 
those thoughtful and conscientious writers for the news- 
paper press who have at heart both the welfare of 
the community and the interests of the Stage and who 
by their critical commentaries so profoundly influence 
the popular taste. I do not subscribe to the despairing 
dictum of old Frederick Chatterton, sometime manager 
of Drury Lane Theatre, London, that "Byron spells 
bankruptcy and Shakespeare spells ruin," — and the in- 
tellectual approval and practical support essential to 
adequate revivals of Shakespeare I not only earnestly 
bespeak but confidently expect to receive. 

"The Merchant of Venice" is one of the plays by 
William Shakespeare mentioned by Francis Meres in 
his "Pallis Tamia." That work was published in 1598 
— and, therefore, the comedy must have been written at 
least a little earlier. It was entered at Stationers ' Hall, 
London, in that year (1598), by James Roberts. It was 
published by Roberts, London, 1600 (the First Quarto), 
and it was issued again, in 1600, by Thomas Hayes (the 
Second Quarto). After that it was not reprinted until 
it appeared in the First Folio — 1623. 

The period of the action of "The Merchant of Venice" 
is generally accepted as being that in which it was writ- 
ten.^ There is no known positive record of its first pro- 
duction. In the "Diary" of Philip Henslowe (partner 

^ ' ' The Venice of Shakespeare 's own time, and the manners 
of that city, are delineated with matchless accuracy in this 
drama. ' ' — Charles Knight. 



8 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

in theatrical management with the famous Edward 
Alleyn, who founded Dulwich College, where the 
"Diary" is preserved) an allusion occurs to presentment 
of "the Venesyan Comedy" as having occurred in Lon- 
don on August 25, 1594. That allusion has been accepted 
by scholars as referring to the first production of "The 
Merchant of Venice." It seems a reasonable conjec- 
ture.^ The dates assigned for composition of this com- 
edy, by various commentators of authority, range from 
1594 (Malone, Grant White, and others) to 1598 (Ste- 
vens, Hudson, and others). Charles Knight (without 
stipulating for any particular year) pleads, in general 
terms, for "a much earlier date than any hitherto as- 
signed": i. e., for a date much earlier than 1594. To 
me it has long seemed that "The Merchant of Venice" 
was well described by the late Richard Mansfield as "a 
fairy tale," — that is, as wholly a figment of fancy, fit- 
tingly localized in any Venetian period remote enough 
to be romantic and colorful enough to be picturesque. 
Therefore, without attempting contribution to the fog of 
scholarly dispute as to when it was written, I have placed 
the period of its action at about the first quarter of the 
sixteenth century. That was what may be called The 
Golden Age of Venice — the time when she had touched 
the highest point of all her greatness ; when, resplendent 
in the full meridian of her glory, she seemed, indeed, a 
jeweled queen of the summer seas. Selection of that 
time, accordingly, permits me to provide for this lovely 
comedy not only romantic environment but, also, pleas- 
ingly novel as well as beautiful costuming. And I have 
been further swayed in so placing the period of its action 
by the fact that Jews, especially those of wealth and 
therefore of influence, were then permitted to live in 

^ Dowden is inclined to think otherwise. He says : ' ' This may 
have been Shakespeare's play, but more probably it was not." 



PREFACE 9 

Venice (as it is indisputable that Shyloch lived), outside 
of the ghetto/ 

The island city of Venice, of course, and Belmont, an 
imagined country estate, or "seat," somewhere upon 
the neighboring mainland shore, are the places of its 
action. 

The text of The Woeks of Shakespeabe as revised 
and issued by that superb scholar and model editor, the 
Rev. Alexander Dyce, has been adopted as the basis for 
this arrangement.^ In a few instances, however (but 

^ Origin of the term "ghetto" is obscure. The Jews' quarters 
of Venice and Salerno are, in some documents of the eleventh 
century, called "Judaea" and "Judcaria." It has been main- 
tained that these became "Judaicam" (as, for example, in 
the designation of a place in Capua, "San Nicolo ad Ju- 
daicam") ; then "Guideica" and thence by corruption into 
"ghetto." According to another theory, it is derived from 
"gietto," the common foundry in Venice, near to which was 
the first Jews' quarter of that city. Still another theory de- 
rives the term from "borghetto," a diminutive of the Italian 
"borgo," a borough; — i. e., a little borough. The word is 
used carelessly to-day to signify in a general manner any locality 
in a great city where Jews most do congregate. In earlier 
times it signified the exact locality in certain cities, enclosed 
by gated walls, to occupancy of which Jews were restricted by 
law. The walls and gates of the ghetto in Rome were not de- 
molished until 1885. 

During the Middle-Ages {circa, 500-1500) the Jews were for- 
bidden to leave their ghettos after sunset, when the gates 
thereof were locked; and they were also imprisoned therein 
upon Sundays and all other Christian holy days. The ghetto 
at Venice was established upon a separate island. "An island 
was appropriated to them [the Jews]," says the Shakespearean 
scholar Edmund Malone; "but they long ago overflowed into 
other parts of the city." It would hardly be reasonable to 
suppose that reveling Christian masquers would or could pene- 
trate at night into the dark and squalid region of the Venetian 
ghetto. Therefore we must suppose that STvyloch was one of 
those Jews who, as Malone says, overflowed into other parts 
of the city and that his "sober house" must have been situate 
in some district more agreeable and readily accessible. 

^ Second Edition. 



10 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

always for cogent reasons), punctuations or readings of 
other editors have been followed. In every such instance 
the editor preferred is also one of recognized authority. 
The spelling has been a little modified — being that sanc- 
tioned by the best contemporary usage in America: 
"color" instead of the English form of "colour"; 
"honor" instead of "honour," and the like. 

As printed in the quartos and the First Folio "The 
Merchant of Venice" is divided into five acts; but the 
acts are not divided into scenes. Nicholas Rowe, in 
1709, was the first editor to remedy that defect, arrang- 
ing the comedy in fourteen scenes. Subsequent editors 
have increased the number of scenes to twenty, in which 
form this play is printed in many of the standard Library 
Editions. For reasons of expediency this arrangement 
presents it in five acts and eleven scenes, several of 
which are played practically without pause, — a method 
which long experience has taught me is specially pleas- 
ing to the contemporary audience, an audience that 
craves fluently continuous movement; that will not as- 
semble in the theatre earlier than eight-fifteen, and that, 
as a whole, will not remain there later, at the latest, than 
a few minutes after eleven.^ 

No enumeration of Chaeaotbrs is prefixed to either of 
the quarto, or to the First Folio, texts of "The Mer- 
chant." In those texts we find the names of Salarino, 
Slarino, Salanio, Solanio, Salino, Salerio. These six 
sensibly have been reduced (by Dyce, Knight, and others) 
to Salarino and Solanio. A hair-splitting argument can, 
perhaps, be made to sustain a separate identity for 
Salerio; but for practical stage purposes there is no 
room for reasonable dispute: these characters should 
stand as Salarino and Solanio. 

^ This is a fact I earnestly deprecate. But it is a fact, — 
and with facts there is no disputing. — D. B. 



PREFACE 11 

A whole literature of emendation, conjecture and com- 
mentary has grown up around the text and the char- 
acters of this play — as it has around those of all its 
fellows. It is not desirable to cumber a practical Acting 
Edition with discussions and citations almost intermi- 
nable. But I would here specify that the whole of that 
literature (containing much of folly and conceit as well 
as much of wisdom and learning) has been heedfully 
examined in preparing the play for its present revival, 
and that ample authority exists for each and every de- 
cision as to moot points embodied in this arrangement. 

In making it the following truths, as stated by one 
of the greatest and most reverend of Shakespeare 
scholars, and one of the wisest and most practical of 
modem stage adapters, have been heedfully regarded: 

"The purists of the present, who utter the voice 
of indignant protest against even the slightest al- 
teration of the 'original' Shakespeare structures, 
seem to suppose that earlier times displayed a 
greater reverence in this matter ; but that is a mis- 
take. The truth is that no one of Shakespeare's 
plays can be presented and spoken exactly as it is 
fashioned and written; and that, in the regTilar 
theatre, no one of them ever has been performed, 
since Shakespeare's time, without some curtailment. 
In the universities, and on scholastic occasions, the 
literal original [or what passes for such] has, now 
and then, been given. . . .^ In Shakespeare's period, 

^"Hamlet" has been so acted, at the Memorial Theatre, Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, for example; and several other of the plays 
have, on occasion, been presented in prolix if not absolutely 
complete detail, at various places, — ^notably, at the Victoria The- 
atre, London. Such revivals in extenso bring to mind one of 
the sensible remarks of Shakespeare's personal friend, "rare 
Ben Jonson" (who loved the man and honored his memory, on 



12 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

when theatrical performances occurred in the day, 
and when but little use was made of scenery, the 
whole of such a piece as 'King Richard III.' might 
have been given; but no audience would endure it 
now. 

"Every actor [and, let me interject, every pro- 
ducing manager, — D. B.] who, achieving distinction, 
has attained power, uses his own versions of Shake- 
speare ; and if all those versions had been preserved, 
we should possess, in writing, the stage traditions 
which now, for the greater part, are preserved only 
in the memory of a rapidly vanishing race of 
players. ..." 

It is the duty of a producing manager to provide, 
for every play he elects to set upon the stage, both a 
company of players capable of its proper interpretation 
and a scenic investiture adequate to its requirements and 
contributory, in the fullest possible degree, to its enact- 
ment and apprehension.^ In a matter so largely one of 
taste there never can be universal accord; and to the 
end of time there will be divergent ideas of adequacy 
in the setting of Shakespeare. Ever since Charles Kean, 
for example, began his series of sumptuous revivals 

this side idolatry, as much as any) : "I remember that the 
players have often mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare 
that in his writings, whatever he penned, he never blotted out 
a line. My answer hath been: 'Would he had blotted a thou- 
sand ! ' " His works would, indeed, have been improved had 
he done so. 

^ The public ought, I think, to reflect that it is only the 
desire and pm'pose of a theatrical manager to give to it what 
it is entitled to expect and to receive which prompts such a 
one to assume the burdensome expense of making an adequate 
production — an expense which, to-day, is often all but pro- 
hibitive. 



PREFACE 13 

of Shakespeare, at the old Princess' Theatre, London, 
with "King John," ^ — February 9, 1852, — there has been 
a wail of clamorous complaint about "over-loading 
Shakespeare with scenery" and an outcry as to the need 
of reverting, in Shakespearean revivals, to "the original 
test." 

It is, of course, to be conceded that neither the plays 
of Shakespeare nor those of any other dramatist should 
be "over-loaded" with scenery. Also, it is conceded 
that where a clear, consistent, dramatic "original text" 
exists it should, as far as possible, be adhered to. 

In this matter the first disagreement must necessarily 
come over the question of what constitutes scenic over- 
loading. Shall we have the stage practically bare? Or, 
Shall we have it set to represent as closely as possible 
the scenes specified? A very small minority of the 
theatre-going public, which enjoys mere rhetoric and 
declamation, approves presentation of plays upon stages 
almost barren and most insufficiently illumined. The 
immense majority of that public, upon the other hand, 
prefers and demands (and is therein reasonable and 
right) representations designed to create illusions : rep- 
resentations wherein actors, impersonating and inter- 
preting character, are required to "suit the word to the 
action, the action to the word," and wherein, also, stage 
directors strive to suit the scenic investiture to the in- 
dications of time and place and to the dramatic and his- 
trionic needs of plays presented. Yet, by the minority, 
such stage directors are those most often (and most 

^ Kean had previously brought out "Twelfth Night" and 
"The Merry Wives of Windsor," but "King John, "—-which 
he first produced at the old Park Theatre, New York, six years 
earlier, November 16, 1846, — ^was really the first of his great, 
his sumptuous, revivals, for the making of which he was cen- 
sured. 



14 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

unjustly) censured for "over-loading"^ Shakespeare 
with scenery. 

Charles Kean, in the Shakespeare revivals to which 
I have alluded, depended far more upon Acting than he 
did upon scenery and accessories ; a reading of the lists 
of his theatrical companies will show that. And it is 
certain not only that he was associated with one of the 
most accomplished of actresses, Ellen Tree, but, also, 
that he was himself truly a great actor. The complaint 
against his rich settings owes much of its endurance 
(if, indeed, it does not owe its origin) to jealousy on 
the part of a still greater actor, William Charles 
Macready, whose rival Kean was in some sort. 
Macready, after retiring from the Stage, was bitterly 
resentful of the success, public applause and social 
favor which were lavished upon the younger player.^ 
Commenting upon Kean's revival of "The Winter's 
Tale," and upon the careful attention therein bestowed 
upon investiture, he said: 

"Evidently the accessories swallow up the poetry 
and action. ... I take it so much to heart, because 

^ Shakespeare himself was, beyond doubt, keenly appreciative 
of the absolute and deplorable inadequacy of the oft-vaunted 
Elizabethan Stage to proper presentation of some of his great 
plays. Consider, in this connection, his lament in ' ' King Henry 
v.," about the unsatisfactory, and indeed contemptible, manner 
In which, upon that stage, one of the most famous of decisive 
battles was indicated: 

"Where — 0, for pity! — we shall much disgrace, 
With four or five most vile and ragged foils. 
The name of Agincourt ! ' ' 
2 This jealousy was so well known among their contemporaries 
that when Kean lost a valuable ring which had been given to 
him by Queen Victoria, in recognition of his histrionic and 
managerial achievements, the sardonic Douglas Jerrold re- 
marked: "li: will probably be found sticking in Macready' s 
crop." 



PREFACE 15 

I feel myself in some measure responsible. I, in 
my endeavor to give to Shakespeare all his at- 
tributes ; to enrich his poetry with scenes [settings] 
worthy of its interpretation : to give to his tragedies 
their due magnificence, and to his comedies their 
entire brilliancy, have set an example which is ac- 
companied with great peril, — for the public is will- 
ing to have the magnificence without the tragedy, 
and the poet is swallowed up in display. ..." 

Those ill-natured comments by Macready (a much em- 
bittered man as well as one of the greatest of artists), 
apropos of the work of Kean, were merely an ebullition 
of envy. He perceived himself being excelled as a pro- 
ducer, and he vented his spleen in detraction. His solici- 
tude concerning "the poet" was entirely superfluous. 
With the public, then as now and always, in a presenta- 
tion of Shakespeare "the play's the thing": no revival 
of any of his plays that has depended for support merely 
upon "display" has ever had, at best, more than a 
fleeting prosperity : many of such productions have been 
disastrous failures. A diamond is always a diamond — 
but cut, polished and placed in a suitable and lovely 
setting it always shows to better advantage than when 
left, rough and imperfect, embedded in clay. To give to 
Shakespeare's plays, tragic or comic, their wholly ade- 
quate, due investiture — that, and nothing more — has been, 
and is, the honorable ambition of his most truly appre- 
ciative and reverent producers. Such, certainly, is 
my ambition in reviving "The Merchant of Venice." 
But to recognize that not everything which Shakespeare 
wrote is either good literature or good drama does not 
injure, — on the contrary it aids, — in making satisfactory 
revivals of his plays. 

The same complaint, nevertheless, that was made 



16 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

against Kean has been uttered, in successive periods, 
against Kean's successors, — against, for example, Lester 
Wallack (when he revived "Much Ado About Nothing"), 
Edwin Booth, Lawrence Barrett, Augustin Daly, Charles 
Calvert, and — most of all — against Henry Irving. Not 
long ago I read an article extolling the methods of pro- 
ducers who throw away all the beautiful and invaluable 
improvements which have been developed during the last 
three hundred years and revert to primitive methods. 
In that article I found the following amazing remarks.: 

"... The two producers who did most in Eng- 
land to keep Shakespeare on the boards, also did a 
great deal to ruin Shakespeare, by denying that he 
knew his business. . . . 

"Those two ^ producers were Sir Henry Irving, 
who chopped up the plays and re-arranged the scenes 
to make as few changes of locale as possible. He 
ruined Shakespeare's construction. 

"Sir Frank Benson, who trained a whole swarm 
of Shakespearean actors. He let loose upon the 
poor land that plague of mouthing and solemn elo- 
cutionists who have ruined whatever Irving and the 
other producers had left of Shakespeare's splendid 
and racy humanity. ..." 

There is a kind of men who very quickly grow tired 
of hearing Aristides called the just and who (vicious 
with en\7^) take a sort of malicious pleasure in girding 
at the great achievements of leaders in any calling. 

^ It is rank and ignorant injustice thus to ignore all that 
was done, in England, in the way of "keeping Shakespeare on 
the stage," by Maeready, Charles Kean, Samuel Phelps (who 
produced thirty-two of Shakespeare's thirty-seven plays — a rec- 
ord never equaled), Charles Calvert and Herbert Beerbohm- 
Tree. 



PREFACE 17 

Silent contempt, no doubt, often is the wisest way to 
treat their ebullitions of disparagement. Yet it is not 
right that theatrical history should be falsified, and the 
reputations of noble artists and devoted public servants 
be traduced, without protest. Henry Irving was (in my 
judgment) the greatest stage producer that ever lived. 
The British Government (with the hearty approval of 
the whole English-speaking world) made him a knight 
(the first actor ever, as such, to be so honored), in rec- 
ognition of his unequaled services to the Theatre and 
the Art of Acting and thus to the Public. And now, 
seventeen years after his death, we are apprised (upon 
authority of persons who have never done anything of 
the slightest note for anybody!) that his beneficent serv- 
ices consisted, in large part, of "chopping up" Shake- 
speare and ruining or destroying his "construction" and 
"the splendid and racy humanity" which he depicted! 
Sir Frank Benson (a disciple of Irving, who began 
his stage career under him, at the London Lyceum The- 
atre, in 1883) has long maintained, in his theatrical trav- 
eling company, the best training school accessible, in 
recent years, to the English-speaking stage aspirant. 
The one thing which Irving detested most in the Theatre 
was a "mouthing, solemn elocutionist." His derisive 
name for such a one was "a spouter." He preached, 
practiced and enforced, from first to last, the theory of 
acting which at all times subordinates mere elocution 
to impersonation. One of the texts upon which he 
descanted, time and again, as illustrating his doctrine, 
is the terrific speech of Shylock, in the famous Street 
Scene of "The Merchant." That theory and practice 
of impersonation instead of declamation Benson learned 
from Irving, and throughout his long and admirable 
career he has inculcated it in the actors whom he has 
trained — yet we are now informed, falsely as well as 



18 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

flippantly, that Benson was honored by his government, 
as Irving had been, not for merit, but for training and 
letting loose upon the stage "a plague" of "spouters," 
of "mouthing and solemn elocutionists"! Such mean 
belittlement of greatness "is not, and it cannot come to, 
good." 

Irving produced twelve of Shakespeare's plays. When 
he first came out in "Hamlet," at the London Lyceum 
(under management, by the way, of an American, old 
"Chain-Lightning" Bateman), that tragedy was given 
for 200 consecutive performances (the longest run ever 
achieved with it anywhere), and the total cost of the 
production, scenery and dresses (the latter being hired), 
was — $475 ! When Irving again revived it at the Ly- 
ceum, four years later, the amount expended on the 
production was approximately $5,000. When (Novem- 
ber 1, 1879) he made his famous revival of "The Mer- 
chant of Venice" (which for artistic beauty and general 
excellence has never been excelled) the production ac- 
count totaled but $5,750. During the run of the piece 
(250 consecutive perform^ances — the longest run ever 
achieved, anywhere, with a play by Shakespeare) Irving 
spent, for upkeep and new scenery and costumes, an 
additional $4,090— a grand total of only $9,840. Accord- 
ing to an old proverb "money talks." Well, it does. 
And, on this subject, I seem to hear it saying: "You 
cannot produce a Shakespeare comedy, setting it in thir- 
teen scenes; dress upward of 150 different persons, and 
run the play for more than seven consecutive months, 
on a total production expenditure of less than $10,000— 
and still do much scenic 'overloading'!"^ 

^ ' ' Except in one instance [meaning, when he produced ' ' King 
Henry VIII."] the scenic art- has never been made the cardinal 
element of my policy. . . . 

"Nothing, to my mind, can be 'overdone' upon the stage that 



PREFACE 19 

The second point of disagreement always comes as to 
the original test. Clamor for the complete, unexpur- 
gated, original text of Shakespeare arises, primarily, 
from a fallacious assumption — the assumption, namely, 
that there exists a clear, definite, complete "original 
text." All competent Shakespeare scholars are aware, 
of course, that there is no such thing. Yet, by way of 
censuring modern producers, who, of necessity, edit and 
arrange Shakespeare 's plays for the contemporary stage, 
it is sarcastically alleged that "Shakespeare knew what 
he was doing when he put together his plays in short 
scenes, developing rapidly on one another. ..." 

Such observations as that display ignorance — because 
they reveal a supposition that Shakespeare made his 
plays exactly as they stand to-day in those superb mon- 
uments of scholarship and devoted labor, the modern 
standard Library Editions. Such, of course, is not the 
case. Save by inference and deduction, we possess com- 
paratively little knowledge of how Shakespeare "put to- 
gether his plays." But part of the knowledge on that 
subject which we do possess is that he did not, exclu- 
sively,— or even in most instances,— put them together 
in "short scenes." 

Counting the two parts of "King Henry IV." and the 
three parts of "King Henry VI.," as separate plays, and 
including both "Titus Andronicus" and "Pericles," 
there are thirty-seven Shakespeare plays. Our chief 
source of their text is the First Folio, 1623. Eighteen 
of the plays are therein printed for the first time. The 
others had been previously printed in one, or more, 

is beautiful — T mean, correct and harmonious. — and that 
heightens, not dwarfs, the imagination and reality. I took no 
less pains [than he had taken in staging Shakespeare] in pro- 
ducing [the farce of] 'The Captain of the Watch' or 'The Two 
Roses.' " — Heney Irving. 



20 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

quarto editions. Some of those quartos were surrep- 
titious or piratical (e. g., "The Merry Wives of Wind- 
sor" and "King Henry VI. — Part One").^ Some of 
them were authorized and are invaluable. The type for 
the First Folio was (probably) set, in some instances, 
from manuscripts (e. g., "The Tempest"),^ in some, 
from playhouse (prompt) copies — which may have been 
made up on copies of printed quartos or may have been 
in manuscript — and in some other instances, beyond 
doubt, from earlier quartos. 

The First Folio, while it certainly is what that great- 
est of Shakespeare scholars, J. 0. Halliwell-Phillipps, 
called it, — namely, "The most interesting and valuable 
book in the whole range of English literature," — is, also, 
certainly the worst compiled, edited and printed work, 
of major importance, ever issued from the press.* It 
has been authoritatively said to contain approximately 
20,000 demonstrable errors/ In the plays, as there 
printed, are found some scenes or passages which do 
not occur in any of the previously printed quartos — 

^ Halliwell-Phinipps, 

2 Ibid. 

^ A great deal of pother is made, from time to time (especially 
by Baconian fanatics), over the fact that we do not possess 
the original manuscripts of Shakespeare. Everything consid- 
ered, it would be more strange if we did possess them. The 
Globe Theatre was burnt, June (29?), 1613, during a perform- 
ance of "King Henry VIII." and, beyond reasonable doubt, 
many of those manuscripts were then destroyed. Not much 
care was taken of manuscripts after they had been "set up." 
Moreover, London was swept by a terrible fire, in 1666, in 
which old St. Paul's Cathedral was consumed, and along with 
it "a vast quantity of books and manuscripts that had been 
brought from all the threatened parts of the city and heaped 
beneath its arches." Thus might well have perished the manu- 
scripts of the later Shakespeare plays — first printed in the 
Folio — supposing them to hav6 survived for forty-three years 
after that book issued. 

* William Winter. 



PREFACE 21 

while, on the other hand, in some of those quartos are 
scenes or passages which do not occur in the First Folio. 
This, notably, is the ease with "Hamlet" and "King 
Richard III." In almost innumerable instances "read- 
ings" vary. "Troilus and Cressida" is, practically 
speaking, an irreparable jumble. "King John" is, sceni- 
cally, much tangled. "Macbeth" is notoriously cor- 
rupt.^ "Antony and Cleopatra" and "Troilus and Cres- 
sida," as we have received them (First Folio), are not 
divided into scenes, or even into acts. "The Comedy 
of Errors," "A Midsummer Night's Dream,"' "Much 
Ado About Nothing," "Love's Labor's Lost," "Julius 
Caesar," and "Coriolanus," like "The Merchant of 
Venice, are divided into acts, but not into scenes. And 
yet modern producers (who are scrupulous to present 
the great plays with due consideration of unity, con- 
sistency, continuity, clarity and dramatic effect) are cen- 
sured and aspersed for not setting them upon the stage, 
according to "the original text," and in many "short 
scenes," as Shakespeare made them! 

Much of the fallacious (or fictitious) reverence for 
"the original text" of Shakespeare which has been mani- 
fested during the last century or so (and manifested, 
generally, by idlers, in disparagement of the work of 
sincere and competent producers) originated with the 
famous English political agitator and philologist, John 
Home Tooke (1736-1812), who, very preposterously, 
wrote that "The First Folio [of Shakespeare] is tlie 
only edition worth reading" and that "it is much to 
be wished that an edition of Shakespeare were given 

^"Shakespeare wrote for an ill-provided stage, and there is 
reason to believe that his plavs, as they have come down to us, 
contain lanquane tliat was foisted vpon them 'by otJier tvrifers." 
— "William Winter. 

^In the first quarto, "The Dream" is not even divided into 
acts. 



22 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

literatim according to the First Folio . . . for, by the 
presumptuous license of the dwarfish commentators, we 
risk the loss of Shakespeare's genuine text, which that 
Folio assuredly contains, notwithstanding some few 
slight [!] errors of the press." 

Halliwell-Phillipps, with terse restraint, remarks that : 
"Home Tooke was not so well read as the commentators, 
none of whom could have exhibited such an entire igno- 
rance of the value of the quartos," — nor, be it added, 
of the state of the text as it stands in the First Folio. 
Indeed, it is proper to say that Tooke 's observations 
suggest the probability that he never really studied a 
copy of the Folio, — which exhibits such a jumble of 
errors and defects that no publisher of to-day would 
accept it as printers '-copy, let alone offer it for sale as 
a finished product of the bookmaker's craft! Since the 
time of Home Tooke we have had many editors and com- 
mentators (Dyce, Staunton, Knight, Collier, White, 
Clarke and Wright, Keightley and Furness, among 
them) who have rendered invaluable service in correc- 
tion and coordination of Shakespeare's plays. 

And the producers who (in my judgment) most truly 
revere the Great Dramatist and best serve his fame and 
the public interest are not those who make of his plays 
archaic and tiresome curiosities, but those who (sensibly 
utilizing an eclectic and purged text) present those plays 
in form suitable to the modern stage and contemporary 
taste.^ I cannot comprehend, for example, how it can 

^ Dr. Johnson frankly remarked of Shakespeare that: "He 
has scenes of undoubted and perpetual excellence, but perhaps 
not one play which, if it were now exhibited as the work of 
a contemporary writer, would be heard to the conclusion. ' ' 

And William Winter, with his customary simplicity and sane- 
ness, has written: "No person, I believe, has ever entertained 
a more profound veneration for the genius of Shakespeare than 
is cherished by me. But I have long felt that the habit of 



PREFACE 23 

be thought either reverent of Shakespeare, or agreeable, 
or necessary to satisfaction of an audience assembled 
in the theatre, to hear Lorenzo rebuke Launcelot with 
"the getting up of the negro's belly" Act. V., Sc. 1, 
ed. Dyce), — and in my stage arrangement of "The Mer- 
chant" all such exquisite gems of the original text will 
be found conspicuous by their absence. 

In arranging this Acting Edition of "The Merchant 
of Venice" my steadfast purpose has been to provide 
a properly full and entirely adequate, correct, and there- 
fore satisfactory, presentation of Shakespeare's ever- 
favorite tragi-comedy, within the limit of time available, 
— about three hours. In order to accomplish this, all 
that it was found practically possible to do for the 
acceleration of the dramatic movement has been done, 
by omission of expatiative passages and of all such 
scenes as experience has shown to be supererogatory,^ 
and also (as previously signified) by deletion of all such 
speeches as, being gross and vulgar, are offensive to 
decency and good taste. 

In performance of the work of arrangement the best 
of the earlier stage versions have been studiously exam- 
ined and considered (most of all, those made by Charles 
Kean, Edwin Booth— 1878 and 1887— and Henry Irving). 
It is my hope and belief that the resultant fabric, while 
it is in some sense peculiar to itself, will be found, also, 

ascribing perfection to everything that Shakespeare wrote, 
merely because he wrote it, is one of the chief obstacles to a 
right understanding of his works. ... He should be venerated 
and extolled for his virtues, not for his faults. As an artist 
he was often heedless ; there is not even one of his plays which, 
as we possess it, would not be better had it been carefully re- 
vised by him, and one object which should invariably and con- 
scientiously be sought in the stage presentation of his plays is 
the exclusion of tTie errors and Flemishes of 'the original text.' " 
^Notably, the Arragon Casket Scene. 



24 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

to be incorporative of all that is best in the arrangements 
of precedent producers. 

I recently read a letter by that great American theatri- 
cal manager Augustin Daly, addressed to his friend and 
mine, the late William Winter, when they were at work 
upon a stage arrangement (never produced) of "All's 
Well That Ends Well," in which he expressed some 
views on adaptation which seem to me worthy of record : 

"... My only idea of adaptation is to make as 
few changes of scene as it is possible to get along 
with, and to reach this end it will only be necessary 
to transporse a few of the scenes, — as I did in 'The 
School for Scandal.' 

"In that piece there are not fifteen words added 
to Sheridan. 

"... There are [in Shakespeare] some obsolete 
and incomprehensible phrases which might be 
'adapted,' I think; but that I leave to your taste. 
We want to make Shakespeare attractive to the 
greater mass : and, to that end (as Charles Dickens 
advised Bulwer), we must concede something to 
them. ..." 

And I would also commend, to persons solicitous con- 
cerning the text as it stands cut and arranged in my 
version, the following remarks by one of the most rev- 
erent and scrupulous editors of Shakespeare, the late 
Charles Edward Flower — who, it is interesting to re- 
call, did his editorial work within sight of the spot where 
the Swan of Avon ceased from singing and where his 
ashes lie at rest: 

"Some learned critics object to any omissions, 
or any alterations in the order of scenes, however 
necessary to the exigencies of the stage, and say 



PREFACE 25 

that Shakespeare's plays should be acted only as 
he wrote them, forgetting that the 'original text' 
\i. e., the quartos and the First Folio] are very 
corrupt, and that the divisions into scenes are, in 
MOST instances, ONLY coNjECTXJEAL. ... It might as 
well be objected that Shakespeare's plays ought 
never to be acted, as we understand acting, but 
should simply be declaimed before a tapestry 
screen. ..." 

In his Notes on the Arrangement of "Hamlet," Flower 
says: 

"In the editions published during the last [the 
eighteenth] century this play was divided into a 
great number of scenes, and some exception has been 
taken to the recent practice of reducing this num- 
ber, by playing several scenes continuously, without 
change or pause. This, instead of being an inno- 
vation, is really a return to the original form,"^ 

* It was as a consequence of Mr. Flower's often expressed 
wish and suggestion that "Hamlet" was, finally, presented "in 
its entirety" (the performance lasting about seven hours and 
being given in two parts, the first in the afternoon, the second 
at night), at Stratford-upon-Avon. But Mr. Flower was an 
eminently sensible man, and he quite comprehended that such a 
representation was suitable to a special occasion only and neither 
feasible nor desirable in the regular theatre. He had a perfect 
understanding of the practical requirements of the stage, for, 
working upon the basis of all available English stage arrange- 
ments (including those of Gibber, Garrick, J. P. Kemble, E. 
Kean, Macready, C. Kean, Phelps, C. Calvert and Irving) and 
of many used or made in Germany, he had prepared an invalu- 
able students' Working Edition of Shakespeare, preserving prac- 
tically entire the definitive texts, while — by use of two sizes 
of type, supplemented with explanatory notes in italics — simul- 
taneously showing the various cuts and transpositions required 
by the exigencies of the modern Theatre and sanctioned by the 
most scholarly usage. 



26 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

— an important fact which I have heedfuUy borne in 
mind, notably in my treatment of the Second Act of 
"The Merchant," in which there is only one change of 
set, and that a change supplementary to the text of 
Shakespeare, made at the close of the Act. 

The whole long and sometimes acrimonious contro 
versy over proper methods of reviving the plays of 
Shakespeare upon the Stage of to-day (whether in re- 
spect to the nature of investiture or the editing of the 
text) resolves itself into this: 

Should a producer utilize all the expedients, devices 
and improvements which incessant study and continuous 
scientific discovery and invention have developed during 
the last three hundred years : or. Should he (not for a 
special, educational occasion but as a permanent policy) 
throw away ambition, and with it all the advancement 
that has been made in that long time, and revert to the 
crude, inferior, wholly inadequate methods which were 
in vogue (and which were contemned while they were 
in vogue) during the infancy of the modern Theatre? 

To do the latter, honestly and consistently, we should, 
among other things, have to banish women from our 
stage and to have such parts as Portia, Nerissa and 
the amorous Jessica represented by "squeaking boys": 
to dispense with suitable music and the almost limitless 
advantages and all the exquisite beauties of electrical 
lighting: to forego the use of proper make-up (wigs, pig- 
ments, etc.) : to do away with all adequate scenery, fur- 
niture and dressing: to present — for example — "The 
Merchant of Venice" not in the garb and the environ- 
ment of the Venice of the sixteenth century, but in the 
cast-off garments of the nobility of Elizabeth's court, 
and in a rough, semi-barren, environment, scarce digni- 
fied enough for a bear-baiting ! ^ 

^ Shakespeare students, of course, are familiar with the gen- 



PREFACE 27 

The Public certainly would not tolerate sucli ineptitude 
in management. Nor is it possible for me to doubt that 
Shakespeare himself would eagerly have employed all 
the many invaluable accessories of modern stage-craft 
if they had been available to him. Therefore, in making 
this revival of "The Merchant of Venice," what I am 
sure Shakespeare would have done, what I am sure he 
would do if he were here to-day, that I have done — and 
availed myself to the full of all those accessories and 
aids to effect. But in the doing so I have neither for- 
gotten nor disregarded the study, insight and achieve- 
ment of three centuries of precedent labor. Thus it will, 
I trust, be found that, while making innovations such 
as life-long study and experience have suggested, I have 
neither cumbered the stage with superfluous and ham- 
pering embellishments nor disregarded anything valuable 
in the traditions with which, through generations of 
genius, this great play has become encrusted. From the 
very first it has been a cardinal article of my artistic 
creed that only by utilizing all that is best — all that 
is true, right and effective — in old and tried methods, 
together with all that is of manifest value in new ones, 
can a dramatic director give to his public what that pub- 
lic is entitled to receive. To nothing, perhaps, more 
than to methods of stage representation are the wise 
words of Pope applicable: 

"Alike fantastic, if too new or old; 
Be not the first by whom the new are tried. 
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside." 

eral eireuinstanees of a performance, at a public play-house, in 
the time of Shakespeare. The average theatre-goer (to whom 
primarily these words are addressed and for whom my produc- 
tions are made) may not be; and therefore, as possibly sug- 
gestive and interesting, I append a description of sueh a per- 
formance, quoted from Taine : see page 37. 



28 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Thus, I may venture to claim, it will be found that I 
have wrought neither as a blind adherent to old ways nor 
as a mere presumptuous innovator, but as a humble, 
reverent and most earnest student and disciple of 
Shakespeare, of the great leaders of my beloved calling, 
and of Truth and Beauty. I have at least done my 
utmost to deserve success, and therefore with equanim- 
ity I await the Public's verdict — remembering the words 
of The Master himself: 

"For never anything comes amiss 
When simpleness and duty tender itl" 



^^-^t^'d^c^^c^ 




David Warfield 



CONOEENING SHYLOCK 



CONCERNING SHYLOCK 

Into the controversy as to whether Shylock is a mon- 
ster or a martyr I shall not, here and now, enter. Mr. 
Warfield's performance is, I am sure, the best essay 
upon his conception which could be provided. But some 
singular doctrines concerning the seriousness, I might 
perhaps say the sincerity, of the character of Shylock 
have, in the coming on of time, got themselves accepted. 
Not long ago, for example, I read warm commenda- 
tion of an actor who presented him as a short, fat, red- 
haired, smirking Jew, grotesque and comical. Indeed, 
of recent years, the assertion that Shylock was acted 
in Shakespeare's day as a red-haired, comic character 
has been so often made that, at last, ignorance has ac- 
cepted mere iterant asseveration as truth and this no- 
tion has become widely prevalent. 

It is a notion both false and preposterous. There is 
nothing in the character, the conduct, or the experience 
of Shylock that is in the least comic. Nor is there any 
sufficient ground for assuming and alleging that Shylock 
was ever acted in the presence, or the period, of his 
creator as a comic character. As Hamlet is an embodi- 
ment of introspective, suffering intellect, — Macbeth, of 
guilty, conscience-scourged ambition, — Lear, of paternal 
love, outraged and anguished by filial ingratitude, — lago, 
of diabolical treachery, — so Shylock is an embodiment 
(and a supreme one) of vindictive hatred over-reaching 
and destroying itself in a hideous purpose of revenge. 
And he is not the less so because, in his final discom- 
fiture and utter ruin, he is, in some sort, pathetic. There 

31 



32 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

is nothing comic in such a character and experience; 
there is much that is afflictingly tragic. 

Intelligent reading of the test of Shakespeare's play 
can leave no slightest doubt of the vital, rugged, grim 
and essentially tragic character of SJiyloch. Here and 
there, indeed, that text reveals or suggests a momentary, 
fleeting, grisly jocularity; but any person who can heed- 
fully and apprehensively study it and find in that char- 
acter anything comic, assuredly must possess a most 
peculiar sense of humor. 

The tradition that Shylock was originally played in 
a red ivig rests upon a probable (not to say a manifest) 
forgery. There is no known, authentic chronicle con- 
taining specific record of the first player of Shylock. 
It is assumed, however, and with reasonable certainty, 
that it was the famous actor Richard Burbage {circa 
1568-1619). 

Burbage was the principal player at the Globe and 
Blackfriars theatres. One authority remarks of him 
that "He was specially famous for his impersonation 
of Richard the Third and other Shakespearean charac- 
ters, and it was in tragedy that he most excelled." Bur- 
bage was closely associated with Shakespeare (whom 
he survived for about two years and who remembered 
him in his will), and, as he was the original performer 
of many other of Shakespeare's great tragic characters, 
it is entirely reasonable to suppose that he was that of 
Shylock, also. But as Shylock is manifestly a tragic 
part, and as Burbage "especially excelled" as a tragic 
actor there is no reason to assume that he played the 
part in anything but a tragic manner. 

When he died, some conamemorative verses about him 
were written anonymously, — and, perhaps, published. 
Those verses are entitled: "A Funeral Elegy, on the 



CONCERNING SHYLOCK 33 

Death oi the Famous Actor, Richard Burbage, who died 
on Saturday in Lent, the 13th of March, 1618 [9]." 

This "Funeral Elegy" was first published (in "The 
Gentleman's Magazine," London, 1825) by Mr. Hasle- 
wood, who owned the original manuscript, — ^which, later, 
was placed in the Huth Library. 

J. Payne Collier reprinted that Elegy in his "History 
of English Dramatic Poetry," London, 1831. In his 
"New Particulars Regarding the Works of Shake- 
speare," London, 1836, Collier mentions as belonging 
to Heber, a second manuscript copy of the verses, and 
asserts that he had subsequently "met with a third 
[manuscript] copy of the same Elegy, in which the list 
of [Burbage 's] characters is enlarged [from three] . . . 
to no fewer than twenty, of which twelve are in plays 
by Shakespeare. ..." 

This alleged third copy of the Elegy on Burbage, 
which Collier asserts that he saw, he printed, in full, 
in his "Memoirs of Actors," London, 1846. In Hasle- 
wood's manuscript there are eighty-six lines. In the 
alleged '^' third copy," as printed by Collier, there are 
one hundred and twenty-four lines. The additional 
thirty-eight lines thus promulgated were rejected by C. 
M. Inglby, when compiling his "Century of Praise"; 
and Miss Toulmin Smith, in the second edition thereof, 
remarks significantly that the original manuscript con- 
taining them has "not yet come to light." 

Among those additional thirty-eight lines published 
by Collier occur the following, which allude to "The 
Mei'chant of Venice" and Shyloch: 

"Heart-broke Philaster, and Amintas, too, 
Are lost forever; with the red-hair 'd Jew, 
Which sought the bankrupt merchant 's pound of flesh, 
By woman -lawyer caught in his own mesh . . ." &c. 



34 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

Collier was an indefatigable antiquarian and a pro- 
foundly learned Shakespeare scholar, but his many 
forgeries (in the Perkins Folio of Shakespeare, and 
elsewhere) make it difficult, if not rationally impossible, 
to accept as genuine any uncorroborated "discovery" 
made by him. And it must be remembered that those 
lines additional to the old anonymous Elegy (lines abso- 
lutely unauthenticated and — to speak frankly — beyond 
doubt spurious) are the sole "authority" for asserting 
that Shylock was played, in Shakespeare's day, in a red 
wig. 

Collier declared, also, that Burbage wore * ' a long false 
nose, such as was worn by" Edward Alleyn, when acting 
Barabas, in Marlowe's "The Jew of Malta." That is 
only an assumption by Collier ; he had no authority for 
making it. But, even if it be correct; and if, further- 
more, the additional lines of the Elegy be accepted as 
authentic — what then? A red wig is no bar to a tragic 
impersonation — nor is a long nose. Was Richard Mans- 
field's personation of Cyrano de Bergerac any the less 
tragic because he wore an elongated snout, when play- 
ing that part? Who that ever saw the younger James 
W. Wallack's red-haired Fagin would ever have called 
it a comic embodiment? 

The false notion that Shylock was at first played as 
a comic character originated in the fact that Thomas 
Doggett (died, 1721), the first actor definitely recorded 
as a performer of Shylock, was an actor of comic and 
farcical parts. The old prompter John Downes writes 
of him, in the "Roscius Angiicanus": "Mr. Doggett, 
on the stage, he's very aspect abund [whatever that 
may have been], wearing a farce in his face," and 
Downes further pronounces him to be "the only comic 
original now [1708] extant." His friend, and one-time 
partner, old Colley Cibber, also wrote of Doggett that 



CONCERNING SHYLOCK 35 

"his greatest success was in characters of lower life," 
and that "in songs, and particular dances, too, of 
humor, he had no competitor." Doggett did present, in 
a coarsely comic manner, a character called Shyloch 
(described as "a stock-jobbing Jew"); but he did so 
only in the atrocious perversion of "The Merchant of 
Venice" made by George Granville, Viscount of Lans- 
downe, which was produced at Lincoln's Inn Fields The- 
atre, London, in 1701, and which held the stage during 
the next forty years. 

That perversion bears about as much likeness to the 
comedy by Shakespeare as does the light diffused by a 
tallow dip to that of the sun. When the noble George 
thrust his ears through Shakespeare's play he made only 
one good change — he altered the title from "The Mer- 
chant of Venice" to "The Jew of Venice." To assume 
that Shakespeare's great character of Shyloch was orig- 
inally played by Burbage (or should ever be played by 
anybody) as a humorous character because Doggett (of 
necessity) played Lord Lansdowne's Shyloch as a 
"comic original" is about as rational as it would be to 
suppose that Hamlet should be presented as a humorous 
character, because the once-famous clown George L. Fox 
used, years ago, to present a burlesque Hamlet, in a 
popular travesty of the tragedy, at old Niblo's Garden. 

The great Shakespeare scholar, the elder Horace How- 
ard Furness, remarks on this subject: "There is no 
ground for the belief that Shakespeare's Shyloch ivas 
ever presented on the stage in a comic light. To assert 
it is to imply that Lansdowne's 'Shyloch' and Shake- 
speare's Shyloch are identical." 

And the great actor and theatrical manager Edwin 
Booth (a diligent, scrupulous student of Shakespeare 
and one of the greatest players of Shyloch ever seen) 
wrote, in a published letter on this subject: 



36 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

"... 'Tis nonsense to suppose that Shylock was 
represented in other than a serious vein by Burbage, 
merely because he 'made up' (doubtless, after some 
representation of Judas) with red hair, to empha- 
size the vicious expression of his features. Is there 
any authority for the assertion which some make 
that he also wore a long nose?^ What if he did? 
A clever actor once played the part of Tubal with 
me, and wore red hair and a hooh'd nose. He did 
not make the audience laugh : 'twas not his purpose ; 
but he looked the very creature that could sympa- 
thize with Shylock. His make-up was admirable. 
He's the son of the famous John Drew, and is the 
leading man with Augustin Daly's company. ..." 

^ None — it rests, as aforesaid, merely on the unsupported state- 
ment of a diligent but unscrupulous antiquarian. 



THE ELIZABETHAN STAGE. 

PEOM TAINE's "history OF ENGLISH LITEBATtJEE. " 

"There were already seven theatres in London, in 
Shakespeare's time. . . . Great and rude contrivances, 
awkward in their construction, barbarous in their ap- 
pointments; but a fervid imagination readily supplied 
all that they lacked, and hardy bodies endured all in- 
conveniences without difficulty. On a dirty site, on the 
banks of the Thames, rose the principal theatre, the 
Globe, a sort of hexagonal tower, surrounded by a muddy 
ditch, on which was hoisted a red flag. The common 
people could enter as well as the rich: there were six- 
penny, twopenny, even penny seats; but they could not 
see it without money. If it rained, and it often rains 
in London, the people in the pit, butchers, mercers, 
bakers, sailors, apprentices, received the streaming rain 
upon their heads. I suppose they did not trouble them- 
selves about it; it was not so long since they began to 
pave the streets of London, and men like these have had 
experience of sewers and puddles ; they were not afraid 
of catching cold. While waiting for the piece, they 
amuse themselves after their fashion; drink beer, crack 
nuts, eat fruit, howl, and now and then resoi't to their 
fists ; they have been known to fall upon the actors, and 
turn the theatre upside down. At other times they were 
dissatisfied and went to the tavern to give the poet a 
hiding, or toss him in a blanket ; they were coarse fellows, 
and there was no month when the cry of ' Clubs ! ' did 
not call them out of their shops to exercise their brawny 
arms. When the beer took effect, there was a great up- 

37 



38 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

turned barrel in the pit, a peculiar receptacle for general 
■use. The smell rises, and then comes the cry, 'Burn the 
juniper!' They burn some in a plate on the stage, and 
the hea^^ smoke fills the air. Certainly the folk there 
assembled could scarcely get disgusted at anything, and 
cannot have had sensitive noses. In the time of Rabelais 
there was not much cleanliness to speak of. Remember 
that they were hardly out of the middle-age, and that 
in the middle-age man lived on a dunghill. 

''Above them, on the stage, were the spectators able 
to pay a shilling, the elegant people, the gentlefolk. 
These were sheltered from the rain, and if they chose 
to pay an extra shilling, could have a stool. To this 
were reduced the prerogatives of rank and the devices 
of comfort : it often happened that there were not stools 
enough; then they lie down on the ground: this was not 
a time to be dainty. They play cards, smoke, insult the 
pit, who gave it them back without stinting and throw 
apples at them into the bargain. They also gesticulate, 
swear in Italian, French, English; crack aloud jokes in 
dainty, composite, high-colored words. . . . 

"There were no preparations or perspectives; few or 
no movable scenes : their imaginations took all this upon 
them. A scroll in big letters announced to the public 
tkat they were in London or Constantinople; and that 
was enough to carry the public to the desired place. 
There was no trouble about probability. Sir Philip 
Sidney writes : 

" 'You shall have Asia on the one side, and 
Africke of the other, and so many other under-king- 
doms, that the Plaier when hee comes in must ever 
begin with telling where hee is, or else the tale will 
not be conceived. Now shall you have three Ladies 
walke to gather flowers, and then we must beleeve 



THE ELIZABETHAN STAGE 39 

the stage to be a garden. By and by wee heare 
newes of shipwracke in the same place, then wee 
are to blame if we accept it not for a rocke; . . . 
while in the meane time two armies flie in, repre- 
sented with four swords and bucklers, and then what 
hard heart will not receive it for a pitched field? 
Now of time they are much more liberall. For or- 
dinary it is, that two young Princes fall in love, 
after many traverses, she is got with childe, deliv- 
ered of a faire boy, hee is lost, goweth a man, falleth 
in love, and is readie to get another childe; and all 
this in two houres space.' " 



DAVID BELASCO 

Presents 
MR. WARFIELD 

As Shtlock 

in 

Wm. Shakespeaee's 

The Meechant op Venice 



The Chakacteks as Cast. 

Dtjke of Venice A, E. Anson 

Peince op Moeocco Herbert Grim-wood 

Antonio, the Merchant Ian MaeLaren 

Bassanio, his kinsman and friend Philip Merivale 



Geatiano, 

LOEENZO, 

Salaeino, 

SOLANIO, 



Friends to Antonio 
and Bassanio 



W. I. Pereival 
Horace Braham 
Herbert Ranson 
Reginald Go ode 



Shylock, the Jew David Warfield 

Tubal, "| Conntrymen and friends J Albert Bmning 
Chtjs, J to Shylock [ Morris Strassberg 

Launcelot Gobbo, Servant to Shylock. .Pereival Vivian 

Old Gobbo, father to Lanneelot Fuller Mellish 

Balthazar, Steward to Portia Charles Harbury 

Stephano, a servant to Portia E. H. Wever 

40 



CHARACTERS AND SCENES 41 

Leonaedo, a servant to Bassanio Edward Crandall 

A Jester, at Belmont Warde de Wolfe 

CiiEEK OP THE Court Nick Long 

A Ducal Messenger H. Brown 

Portia, a rich heiress Mary Servoss 

Nebissa, her waiting gentlewoman Mary Ellis 

Jessica, daughter to Shylock Julia Adler 

Magnificoes of Venice ; Officers of the Court of Justice ; 
Gentlemen and Gentlewomen; Citizens of Venice; 
Jews; Servants and Others. 

Period, — About the First Quarter of the Sixteenth Cen- 
tury. 

Place, — in Italy: Partly in Venice, and partly at Bel- 
mont, — the country seat of Portia upon the neigh- 
boring mainland. 



THE SCENES 
as arranged in this version. 

First Act. 

First Scene, Venice ; A Street, near to the Rialto. Time, 
Morning. 

Second Scene, Belmont ; A Room in the House of Portia. 
Time, Evening. 

Third Scene, Venice; An Open Place, before a Syna- 
gogue. Time, Late Afternoon. 

Second Act. 

First Scene, Venice ; The House of Shylock. Time, Busk 
darkening to Night. 



42 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Second Scene (without pause), A Eoom in th.e House 
of Shylock. 
An indeterminate lapse of time is supposed between 
the Second and Third Scenes. In presentation there wiU 
be the briefest possible interval between them. 

Third Scene, The House of Shylock again. Time, Morn- 
ing. 

Thied Act. 

First Scene, Belmont ; The Casket Chamber in the House 
of Portia. Time, Forenoon. 
The Tableaux Curtains will be closed for one minute 
at the end of this scene. 
Second Scene, The Casket Chamber again. Time, the 
next night. 
The Tableaux Curtain will be closed for one minute 

at the end of this scene. 
Another interval of a day and the double wedding 
(of Bassanio and Portia, Gratiano and Nerissa) is 
here supposed. 
Third Scene, The Casket Chamber again. Time, at Sun- 
set, the next day. 

FoTjKTH Act. 
Scene, Venice ; A Court of Justice. Time, Midday. 

Fifth Act. 

Scene, Belmont; A Garden to the House of Portia. 
Time, Midnight. 



PRESENT PRODUCTION 43 



The Play Produced Under the Personal Direction of 
ME. BELASCO. 

The Scenic Investiture by Ernest Gros. 

Music by Norman 'Neill. 

Costumes Designed by Percy McQuoid, R. I., made by B. J. 
Simmons & Co., Covent Garden, London. 

Scenes Painted by Ernest Gros, with the assistance of 

R. W, Bergman and H. Robert Law. 

Electrical Effects by Louis Hartman. 

Scenes Built by Charles L. Carson. 

Women's Costumes for First Act, Second Scene; Third Act, 

Second Scene, and Fifth Act, Designed and Made by 

Mme. Gerber of Callot Soeurs, Paris. 

Women's Costumes for Third Act, First Scene, Made by 
Henri Bendel, New York. 

Properties by Rosewag, Paris, Henry Gebhardt, Siedle Studios, 
New York, and Matthew F. Pureell. 

Renaissance Materials by Mariano Fortuny, Venice. 

Curtains and Draperies by L. Kuhn, New York. 

Wigs by Hepner, Broich, Zander and John. 

Shoes by Algamba, London, and I. Miller, New York. 

Execution of Artistic Details of Costumes and Properties 
Supervised by Elmer E. Taflinger. 

Costumer with Company, Mme. Heerman. 

Stage Director, Burk Symon. 

Stage Manager, William Boag. 

Musical Director, Edwin E. Ludig. 



THE 
DAVID BELASCO 

STAGE ARRANGEMENT 

OF 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

FIRST ACT. 

First Scene, Venice; A Steebt near to the Rialto. 
Time, Morning. 

At Tormentors, Right and Left, Dra- 
peries. AfB. a House which extends diag- 
onally upon Stage about halfway to C. and 
on line with R. 2. E. (This House is Set 
Piece with Door and Set Piece, extending 
Back, up-Stage, from point specified.) 

Another House (2 Set Pieces, and 1 Set 
Piece with Door), extends on from L. half- 
wag to C. There it makes angle and ex- 
tends diagonally across and doivn-Stage to 
a point a few feet R. of C, where it breaks 
at sharp angle and extends Back up-Stage 
toward R. With Wall of House R., this 
House forms a Street, extending diag- 
onally toivard Back, R. Street-Backing at 
extreme rear for this Street. 

Entrances can be made by ivay of this 
Street, at Back, from R. or from R. C. 

At Li. another. House (Set Piece with 
Door) extends diagonally up-Stage from 
L. corner, above Tormentor, to about L. 2. 
E. Above this, and thus in front of House 
L. to R. C, dc, there is space for En- 
trance. 

Between Tormentor Draperies, R. and 

47 



48 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

L., and the Houses above them, there is 
also Entrance space. 

Music to cue. 

As the Curtains are opened a Boy, 
carrying a Basket of Cherries, is discov- 
ered a little C. of the Entrance up-Stag e 
at L. He stands in the shadows of the 
high House and gases upward, looking 
from window to windoiv for possible 
buyers of his fruit. 

Entee from R., down Street at Back, a 
Man ivith Faggots: he comes down, crosses 
to L,, passing Boy without noticing Mm 
and Exit L. 2. E. 

Entee by Door in House up Street R. C. 
a Man with Painting. He comes down and 
to L., stops, speaks to Boy as though tell- 
ing him of a buyer within the House from 
which he has just come, then proceeds and 
Exit, L. 2. E. 

Boy with Cherries runs to Door of 
House, up Street, R. C, knocks, is admitted 
and Exit there. 

Entee L., as Boy makes exit, a Man car- 
rying a Wine-skin. As he gets on, Entee 
at Back, from R. coming down the Street, 
Solanio, Antonio and Salaeino. These 
three come down the Street, Solanio lead- 
ing. Man with Wine-skin meets them, as 
he turns corner to go up Street at Back; 
steps aside, bowing deferentially. Solanio 
and the others pass him, coming down- 
stage. Man with Wine-skin then proceeds 
on his way and Exit at Back to R. Solanio 
down-Stage to L. Salaeino down-Stage to 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 49 

E. Antonio C. and a little up-Stage from 
them. 

Antonio. 
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad : 
It wearies me; you say it wearies you; 
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is bom, 
I am to learn; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
That I have much ado to know myself. 

Salaeino. 
Your mind is tossing on the ocean; 
There, where your argosies with portly sail, — 
Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, — : 
Do overpeer the petty traffickers. 
That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, 
As they fly by them with their woven wings. 

SOLANIO. 

Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth. 
The better part of my affections would 
Be with my hopes abroad; 
And every object that might make me fear 
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 
Would make me sad. 

Salabino. 
My wind, cooling my broth, 
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run. 
But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 



50 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs, 

To kiss her burial. 

But tell not me ; I know Antonio 

Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 

Antonio. 
Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for it, 
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
Nor to one place; 
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 

Saiaeino. 
"Why, then you are in love. 

Antonio. 
Fie, fie! 

Salabino. 
Not in love neither? Then let's say you're sad, 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
For you to laugh, and leap, and say you're merry, 
'Cause you're not sad. 

(Bassanio, Geatiano and Loeenzo are 
heard laughing, off L.) 

SOLANIO. 

(Loohing off L., and then speaking.) 
Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
We leave you now with better company. 

(SoLANio crosses R. to Salaeino.) 

Salaeino. 
I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 
If worthier friends had not prevented me. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 51 

Antonio. 
{Up E. C.) 
Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
I take it, your own business calls on you, 
And you embrace th' occasion to depart. 

(Enter from L. 2. E. Bassanio, Lorenzo 
and Gbatiano.) 

Salaeino. 
Good morrow, my good lords. 

(Salaeino and Solanio are going off to 
E. F. E.) 

Bassanio. 
Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when? 
You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 

Salaeino. 
We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 

(Exeunt Salaeino and Solanio E. F. E.) 

LOEENZO. 

My Lord Bassanio, since you've found Antonio, 
We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time, 
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 

Bassanio. 
I will not fail you. 

Geatiano. 
You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 
You have too much respect upon the world: 
They lose it that do buy it with much care : 
Believe me, you are marvelously chang'd. 



52 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Antonio. 
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
A stage, where every man must play a part, 
And mine a sad one. 

Geatiano. 
Let me play The Pool: 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; 

Wliy should a man, whose blood is warm within, 

Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 

Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 

By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, — 

I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — 

There are a sort of men, whose visages 

Do cream and mantle like a standing pond ; 

And do a wilful stillness entertain, 

"With purpose to be dress 'd in an opinion 

Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; 

As who should say: "I am Sir Oracle, 

And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!" 

my Antonio, I do know of these. 

That therefore only are reputed wise 

For saying nothing. 

I'll tell thee more of this another time: 

But fish not, with this melancholy bait. 

For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion. — 

Come, good Lorenzo. — Fare ye well awhile : 

I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 

(Lorenzo comes do%tm E. C. Antonio is 
L. Geatiano meets Loeenzo, as the 
latter comes down. Bassanio stands 
'down-Stage of them R. C.) 

Loeenzo. 
Well, we will leave you then, till dinner-time : 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 53 

I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. 

Geatiano, 
Well, keep me company but two years more. 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 

Antonio. 
Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. 

Geatiano. 
Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only commendable 
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. 

(Exeunt Geatiano and Loeenzo up-Stage 
to Back at E.) 

Antonio. 
(K. of C, looking after Geatiano.) 
Is that anything now? 

Bassanio. 
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than 
any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains 
of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all 
day ere you find them; and when you have them, they 
are not worth the search. 

Antonio. 
Well ; tell me now, what lady is the same 
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? 

Bassanio. 
'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
How much I have disabled mine estate, 



54 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

By sometMng showing a more swelling port 
Than my faint means would grant continuance: 
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 
Prom such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, 
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 
Hath left me gag'd. To you, Antonio, 
I owe the most, in money and in love; 
And from your love I have a warranty 
T' unburden all my plots and purposes 
How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 

Antonio. 

I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 
And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
Within the eye of honor, be assur'd 
My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
Lie all unlock 'd to your occasions. 

Bassanio. 

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 

I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight 

The selfsame way with more advised watch, 

To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, 

I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, 

Because what follows is pure innocence. 

I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, 

That which I owe is lost : but if you please 

To shoot another arrow that self way 

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt. 

As I will watch the aim, or to find both. 

Or bring your latter hazard back again, 

And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 55 

Antonio. 
You know me well; and herein spend but time 
To wind about my love with circumstance; 
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
In making question of my uttermost, 
Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do, 
That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak. 

(Antonio is C, Bassanio on his R.) 

Bassanio. 
In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, 
Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 
I did receive fair speechless messages : 
Her name is Portia; nothing undervalu'd 
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia: 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand, 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

my Antonio, had I but the means 

To hold a rival place with one of them, 

1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
That I should questionless be fortunate! 

Antonio. 
Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; 
Neither have I money, nor commodity 
To raise a present sum: therefore, go forth; 
Try what my credit can in Venice do : 
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 



56 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 

Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 

Where money is; and I no question make, 

To have it of my trust, or for my sake. 

{They clasp hands, then Exeunt Antonio 
and Bassanio severally as Lights fade 
out and Dark Change to Second Scene.) 



Second Scene, Belmont; A Room, in the Hottsb of 
PoETiA. Time, Evening. 

At Tormentors, Right and Left, Dra- 
peries. From L. corner diagonally wa- 
stage to a point L. C, about on line of 
Second Entrance, Draperies, forming 
Wall. From R. corner diagonally up- 
stage to a point R. C. on same line. Dra- 
peries, forming Wall. Across Stage at 
Bach, about on line of Second Entrance, 
Wall with Three Arches {Three Arch Set 
Piece), bached by draperies. A Large 
Hanging Light, C, above Stage. A Settee, 
R. C. A Small Table near it. A Lotv Seat 
L. of Settee. 

Music for change sounds on PP. through 
opening speeches of this Scene. 

Discovered Portia, seated upon Settee; 
Neeissa on Low Seat L. of her, working 
upon a piece of Pettipoint. 

POBTIA. 

By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this 
great world. 

Neeissa. 
You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in 
the same abundance as your good fortunes are : and yet, 
for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too 
much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean 
happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean: super- 

57 



58 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

fluity comes sooner by white hairs ; but competency lives 
longer. 

Portia, 
Good sentences, and well pronounced. 

Nerissa. 
They would be better, if well followed. 

POETIA. 

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, 
chapels had been churches and poor men's cottages 
princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his 
own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were 
good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow 
mine own teaching. But this reasoning is not in the 
fashion to choose me a husband: — me, the word 
"choose"! I may neither choose whom I would, nor 
refuse whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter 
curbed by the will of a dead father. — Is it not hard, 
Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none? 

Neeissa. 
Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men, at their 
death, have good inspirations : therefore, the lottery that 
he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver and 
lead, — whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, — • 
will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one 
who you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there 
in your affection towards any of these princely suitors 
that are already come? 

POETIA. 

I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou namest them, 
I will describe them; and, according to my description, 
level at my affection. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 59 

Nbeissa. 
First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

POETU. 

Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk 
of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation 
to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. 

Nebissa. 
Then is there the County Palatine. 

POETIA. 

He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, "An 
you will not have me, choose:" he hears merry tales, 
and smiles not : I fear he will prove the weeping philoso- 
pher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly 
sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a 
Death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to either 
of these : — God defend me from these two ! 

Neeissa. 
How say you by the French lord. Monsieur Le Bon? 

POETIA. 

God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man ! 

Neeissa. 
How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's 
nephew? 

POETIA. 

Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober ; and most 
vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when he is 
best, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is 
worst, he is little better than a beast. An the worst fall 
that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. 



60 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Neeissa. 
If he should offer to choose, and choose the right 
casket, you should refuse to perforui your father's will, 
if you should refuse to accept him. 

Portia. 
Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a deep 
glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for, if 
the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know 
he will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I 
will be married to a sponge. 

Nerissa. 
You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords : 
they have acquainted me with their determinations; 
which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble 
you with no more suit, unless you may be won by some 
other sort than your father's imposition, depending on 
the caskets. 

Poetia. 
If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste 
as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my 
father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so 
reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote 
on his very absence ; and I pray God grant them a fair 
departure. 

Neeissa. 
Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a 
Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in 
company of the Marquis of Montferrat? 

Poetia. 
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio : as I think, so was he called. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 61 

Nebissa. 
True, madam : he, of all the men that ever my foolish 
eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. 

POBTIA. 

I remember him well ; and I remember him worthy of 
thy praise. 

(Enteb Balthazab, at Arch C. from L.) 
How now! what news? 

Balthazar, 
The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their 
leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the 
Prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince his 
master will be here to-night. 

POETIA. 

If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a heart 
as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of 
his approach : if he have the condition of a saint and the 
complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me 
than wive me. 

Come, Nerissa. — Sirrah, go before. — ■ 
Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks 
at the door. 

(Exeunt, — Balthazab, then Pobtlv and 
Nebissa, C. to L., as Lights fade out for 
Dark Change to Third Scene.) 



Third Scene, Venice; An Open Place Before a Syna- 
gogue.-~-Full Stage. Time, Late After- 
noon. 

The Synagogue at Bach. Large door 
(with single step before it) in front 
thereof. Entrances, Streets formed by the 
various buildings, E. amd L., down to Tor- 
mentors. 

Light: As of late afternoon, fading into 
a fiery sunset, and so almost to dark. 

The congregation has assembled and the 
evening service is in progress. The sounds 
of chanting by the congregation and can- 
tor; also, occasionally, the voice of the 
Rabbi, are heard. Several belated wor- 
shipers come hurrying on, separately, from 
R. and L. and are admitted through main 
door of Synagogue, by the Shamus (Sex- 
ton) — each hurriedly performing the cer- 
emony of hand-ivashing before going in. 

Latjnoelot Gobbo is discovered L. of 
Synagogue Door. Entee, from Synagogue, 
Jessica ; she goes to Launoelot ; they ivhis- 
per, then Exeunt E. U. E. After a mo- 
ment, Jessica returns, alone, and goes 
back into Synagogue. 

Enter Bassanio and Solanio, up-Stage, 
from L. They come to about center, and 
pause a mo'ment irresolutely, — Bassanio 
being perplexed to know whether or no 
Shylock is inside the Synagogue. Enter 

62 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 63 

from L. F. E. Tubal and Chus. Bassanio 
stops them and questions Tubal, who 
shakes his head in negation. Tubal and 
Chus then proceed toward Synagogue 
door; Tubal, looking of to R, U. E., sees 
Shylook approaching. He points him out 
to Bassanio: then Exeunt Tubal and 
Chus into Synagogue. Bassanio and So- 
LANio get down R., and Exit Solanio, at 
a gesture hy Bassanio, R. F. E. Entee 
Shylook R. U. E. ; as he gets to Synagogue 
door Bassanio calls him: ''Shy lock." 
Bassanio goes up to Shylook : they stand 
in converse near Synagogue door ivhile 
several other Jews pass in; — then they 
come forward, Shylook speaking as they 
do so. 

Shylook. 
(C, and Bassanio R. of him.) 
Three thousand ducats, — well. 

Bassanio. 
Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shylook. 
For three months, — "well. 

Bassanio. 
For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. 

Shylook. 
Antonio shall become bound, — well. 

(As he says "hotmd" there is a flicker of 
eagerness in Shylock's eyes, immedi- 
ately veiled.) 



64 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

Bassanio. 
May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I know 
your answer? 

Shylock. 
Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio 
bound. 

Bassakio. 
Your answer to that. 

Shylook. 
Antonio is a good man. 

Bassanio. 
Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? 

Shylock. 
Ho, no, no, no, no; — my meaning, in saying he is "a 
good man," is to have you understand me, that he is 
sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition : he hath an 
argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies ; I under- 
stand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mex- 
ico, a fourth for England, — and other ventures he hath 
squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but 
men : there be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and 
water-thieves, — I mean pirates; and then there is the 
peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwith- 
standing, sufficient: — three thousand ducats: — I think I 
may take his bond. 

Bassanio. 
Be assured you may. 

Shylock. 
I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured, 
I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio? 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 65 

Bassanio. 
If it please you to dine with. us. 

Shylock. 
Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which your 
prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I will buy 
with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and 
so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, 
nor pray with you. What news on the Eialto? {Looking 
off to R. F. E.)— Who is he comes here? 

Bassanio. 
(LooJcing off in direction of Shylock 's 
gaze, then Exit as he speaks, going to 
meet Antonio, R. F. E.) 
This is Signior Antonio. 

Shylock. 

(Coming a little E. C, watching off to 
R. F. E. as he speaks the following.) 
How like a fawning publican he looks! 
I hate him for he is a Christian ; 
But more, for that, in low simplicity, 
He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails. 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which, he caUs interest. Cursed be my tribe. 
If I forgive him ! 

(Shylock going down Left again, as En- 
tee R. F. E. Bassanio and Antonio.) 



66 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Bassanio. 
Shylock, do you hear? 

Shylock. 
{Over Left, nodding slowly and not turn- 
ing, while he speaks, ruminating.) 
I am debating of my present store ; 
And, by the near guess of my memory, 
I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? 
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 
Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months 
Do you desire? — 

(Shylock, as he speaks, turns so as to see 
Antonio.) 
Rest you fair, good signior; 
Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Antonio. 
(R.) 
Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow, 
By taking nor by giving of excess, 
Tet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
I'll break a custom. — 

(Addressing Bassanio, who is a little R. of 
C.) 

Is he yet possess 'd 
How much we would? 

Shylock. 

Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Antonio. 
And for three months. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 67 

Shylook. 
I had forgot, — three months, 
{To Bassanio) 

you told me so. 
"Well, then, your bond ; and let me see, — but hear you ; 
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 
Upon advantage. 

Antonio. 
I do never use it. 

Shylock. 
When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep, — 
This Jacob from our holy Abraham was 
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) 
The third possessor; ay, he was the third,^ 

Antonio. 
(Impatiently.) 
And what of him? did he take interest? 

Shylock, 

(With vigor cmd great relish.) 

No, not take interest ; not, as you would say. 

Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 

"When Laban and himself were compromis'd 

That all the eanlings which were streak 'd and pied 

Should fall as Jacob's hire, 

The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands, 

And, in the doing of the deed of kind. 

He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes. 

Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 

Fall parti-color 'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 



68 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 

Antonio. 
This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for; 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
But sway'd and fashion 'd by the hand of heaven. 
Was this inserted to make interest good? 
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? 

Shylock. 
I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast !^ 
But note me, signior. 

Antonio. 
{Aside to Bassanio.) 

Mark you this, Bassanio, 
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
0, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! 

Shylock. 

(C.) 
Three thousand ducats, — 'tis a good round sum. 
Three months from twelve, — then, let me see, the rate — 

Antonio. 
Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? 

Shylock. 
(Coming down C. as he speaks, and facing 
Antonio, who is R. of C. Bassanio be- 
low Antonio, to R.) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 69 

Signior Antonio, many a time, — and oft 

In the Eialto/— you have rated me 

About my moneys and my usances: 

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe: 

You call me "misbeliever!" "cut-throat!" "dog!" 

And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 

And aU for use of that which is mine own. 

Well, then, it now appears you need my help : 

Go to, then; you come to me, and you say, 

' ' Shylock, we would have moneys ' ' : — you say so ; 

You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 

And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 

Over your threshold: moneys is your suit! 

What should I say to you? Should I not say, 

"Hath a dog money? is it possible 

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or 

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key. 

With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 

Say this : — 

"Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 

You spurn 'd me such a day; another time 

You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies 

I'll lend you thus much moneys"? 

(Shylock turns away, going a little down 
L., as he ends the foregoing speech, — 
to which Antonio has listened with 
visibly increasing anger.) 

Antonio. 
{To C, and furiously.) 
I am as like to call thee so again, 
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too ! 

^ This reading originated with the great aetor — one of Gar- 
rick's rivals — John Henderson (1747-1785). 



70 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 

As to thy friend — for when did friendship take 

A breed of barren metal of his friend? — 

But lend it rather to thine enemy; 

Who if he break, thou mayst with better face 

Exact the penalty. 

Shylock, 
(L., cmd coming C.) 

Why, look you, how you storm! 
I would be friends with you, and have your love, 
Forget the shames that you have stain 'd me with, 
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
Of usance for my moneys. 
And you '11 not hear me : this is kind I offer, 



Bassanio. 



This were kindness. 



Shylock, 
This kindness will I show: 
{To Antonio) 
Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport, 
If you repay me not on such a day, 
In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
Express 'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
Be nominated for an equal pound 
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of your body pleaseth me. 

Antonio. 
Content, in faith: I'll seal to such a bond. 
And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 71 

Bassanio. 
You shall not seal to such a bond for me : 
I'll rather dwell in my necessity. 

Antonio. 
Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
Within these two months, that's a month before 
This bond expires, I do expect return 
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 

Shylock. 
father Abraham, what these Christians are. 
Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect 
The thoughts of others ! — 

(Shylock coming a little toward Bassanio 
cmd Antonio.) 

Pray you, tell me this ; 
If he should break his day, what should I gain 
By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 
Is not so estimable, profitable neither, 
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say. 
To buy his favor, I extend this friendship : 
If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 

(Shylock about to go toward Synagogue, 
at Bach, as tJiough to leave them.) 

Antonio. 
Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 

Shylock. 
Then meet me forthwith at the notary's, — 
Give him direction for this merry bond ; 
And I will go and purse the ducats straight ; 



72 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently 
I will be with you. 

(Shylock moves toward L. U. E.) 

Antonio. 
Hie thee, gentle Jew. 
{To Bassanio.) 
This Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind. 

Bassanio. 
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 

Antonio. 
Come on: in this there can be no dismay; 
My ships come home a month before the day ! 

(Exeunt Antonio and Bassanio to R. F. E.) 

(Shylock is moving up C, towards L., as 
they Exeunt, As they are going off, 
he turns slowly, his gaze following 
them.) 

'{Music.) 

{The Scene is darkening into shadows: the 
Light falling upon Shylock is a dull, 
ruddy glow. Sound of Hebrew choir 
singing within Synagogue. As Anto- 
nio and Bassanio are off, Shylock 
comes down C, and looking after them, 
speaks.) 

Shylock. 
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause; 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs ! 

PICTUEE. — CUBTAIN. 
END OF FIBST ACT. 



SECOND ACT. 

First Scene, Venice; The House of Shylock. Time, 
Busk, Darkening to Night. 

The place is the confluence of Two 
Streets, narrow and somber. Shylock 's 
HotrsE (Set Piece, with Door) is down L. 
Opposite, R., is the "pent-house" men- 
tioned in the text. One Street leads off, 
up-Stage, to R. The other Street leads 
off, up-Stage, to L. 

After curtain is full up, Enter Tubal, 
from Back R., and crosses doivn to House 
of Shylock, L. As Tubal reaches the 
Door, Enter, through it, Chus: his man- 
ner is depressed — as though he has just 
failed in some business negotiation. Tu- 
bal and Chus, in pantomime, greet each 
other; then. Exeunt, — Chus across Stage 
to R. F. E., Tubal into the House of Shy- 
lock, meeting in the Doorway Launcelot 
GoBBO, who opens Door from within and 
stands respectfully aside for Tubal. After 
Tubal has passed into House, Launcelot 
GoBBo comes out, closing Door, and gets 
ioC. 

Launcelot. 

Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from 

this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and 

tempts me, saying to me, "Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good 

Launcelot," or "good Gobbo," or "good Launcelot 

73 



74 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. ' ' My con- 
science says, "No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take 
heed, honest Gobbo, ' ' or, as aforesaid, ' ' honest Launcelot 
Gobbo ; do not run ; scorn running with thy heels. " To be 
ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my 
master, who — God bless the mark! — is a kind of devil; 
and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the 
fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself. 
Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation ; and, in 
my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard con- 
science, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The 
fiend gives the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; 
my heels are at your commandment ; I will run. 

(Launcelot runs toward R. Enter R. 
F. E. Old Gobbo. Launcelot stops 
and retreats towards C. When Old 
GoBBO gets on and is about C, Launce- 
lot passes behind him and gets R. C.) 

Old Gobbo. 
Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way 
to master Jew's? 

Launcelot. 
(A little R. C, — aside.) 
heavens, this is my true-begotten father ! who, being 
more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, knows me not : 
— I will try confusions with him. 

Old Gobbo. 

Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way 
to master Jew's? 

Launcelot. 
(He speahs in an assumed voice, disguis- 
ing his natural tones, so that he may 
not be recognized by his father.) 



THE MERCHANT OF YENICE 75 

Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, 
at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the 
very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down in- 
directly to the Jew's house. 

Old Gobbo. 

By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can 
you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, 
dwell with him or no ? 

Laxjwoelot. 
Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 

{Aside, coming down-Stage as he speahs.) 
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. — 

{To Old Gobbo.) 
Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 

Old Gobbo. 
No, "master," sir, but a poor man's son: his father, 
though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, 
God be thanked, well to live. 

Launcelot. 
Well, let his father be what 'a will, we talk of young 
Master Launcelot. 

Old Gobbo. 
Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 

Launcelot. 
But, I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, 
talk you of young Master Launcelot? 



76 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Old Gobbo. 
Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 

Launcelot. 
Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launce- 
lot, for the young gentleman — according to Fates and 
Destinies, and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three, and 
such branches of learning — is, indeed, deceased; or, as 
you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. 

Old Gobbo. 
Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very staff of my 
age, my very prop. 

Launcelot. 
Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a 
prop? — (Speaks the foregoing aside; then, speaking in 
his natural voice, addresses his father.) Do you not 
know me, father? 

Old Gobbo. 
Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman : but, 
I pray you, tell me, is my boy — God rest his soul ! — alive 
or dead? 

Launcelot. 
Do you not know me, father? 

Old Gobbo. 
Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 

Launcelot. 
Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the 
knowing me : it is a wise father that knows his own child. 
{Kneels before Old Gobbo, facing front.) Well, old 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 77 

man, I will tell you news of your son : give me your bless- 
ing : truth will come to light ; murder cannot be hid long, 
— a man's son may; but, in the end, truth will out. 

Old Gobbo. 
Pray you, sir, stand up : I am sure you are not Launce- 
lot, my boy. 

Laxjnoelot. 
Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give 
me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy that was, 
your son that is, your child that shall be. 

Old Gobbo. 
I cannot think you are my son. 

Launcelot. 
I know not what I shall think of that : but I am Launce- 
lot, the Jew's man- and I am sure Margery your wife 
is my mother. 

Old Gobbo. 
Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou 
be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. 

{Feeling before him, gropingly, Old Gobbo 

takes hold upon Launcelot 's long back 

hair, which he fingers with amazement.) _ 

Lord worshiped might he be ! what a beard hast thou 

got! thou hast more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my 

fill-horse has on his tail. 

Launcelot. 
{Rising.) 
It would seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows back- 
ward ; I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have 
of my face when I last saw him. 



78 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Old Gobbo. 
Lord, how art thou changed ! How dost thou and thy 
master agree ? I have brought him a present. 

Laufcelot. 
Give him a present ! give him a halter : I am famished 
in his service ; you may tell every finger I have with my 
ribs. 

(Launcelot, laying Ms own hand upon his 
ribs, the fingers spread wide apart, 
takes a hand of his father's and draws 
it across his fingers.) 
Father, I am glad you are come : give me your present 
to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liv- 
eries: if I serve not him, I will run as far as God has 
any ground. (Latjncelot looking of to R.) rare for- 
tune ! here comes the man : — to him, father ; for I am a 
Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 

(Enter Bassanio, his servant Leonabdo 
and two other Servants, from Back, 
up R. Latjncelot and Old Gobbo stay 
L. C, till Bassanio 's speech is ended, 
then advance, as Bassanio comes down 
to R. of C.) 

Bassanio. 

(To Leonardo.) 

You may do so; — but let it be so hasted, that supper 
be ready at the furthest by five of the clock. See these 
letters delivered; put the liveries to making. 

(Bassanio coming down, gives list and sev- 
eral letters to Leonardo, as he speaks. 
Launcelot and Old Gobbo to him.) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 79 

Laxtncelot. 
To him, father. 

Old Gobbo. 
God bless your worship ! 

Bassanio. 
Gramercy: wouldst thou aught with me? 

Old Gobbo. 
Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 

Launoelot. 
(Who has heen behind his father, now 
comes forward and puts his father be- 
hind him — where he holds him until the 
end of his own speech, when Old Gobbo 
comes to the front again: this business 
is repeated during each speech, until, 
"Serve you, sir!") 
Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that would, 
sir, (becoming embarrassed) — as my father shall spe- 
cify,— 

Old Gobbo. 
He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to 
serve, — 

Launoelot. 
Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and 
have a desire, — as my father shall specify, — 

Old Gobbo. 
His master and he — saving your wox'ship's reverence 
— are scarce cater-cousins, — 



80 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Launcelot. 
To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew having done 
me wrong, doth cause me, — as my father, being, I hope, 
an old man, shall f rutify unto you, — 

Bassanio. 
One speak for both. — What would you? 

Launcelot. 
Serve you, sir. 

Old Gobbo. 
That is the very de-fect of the matter, sir. 

Bassanio. 
I know thee well; thou hast obtain 'd thy suit: 
Shylock thy master spoke to me this day, 
And hath preferr'd thee, — if it be preferment 
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
The follower of so poor a gentleman. 

Launcelot. 
The old proverb is very well parted between my master 
Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, 
and he hath enough. 

Bassanio. 
Thou speak 'st it well. — Go, father, with thy son. — 
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
My lodging out. — {Aside to Leonabdo) Give him a livery 
More guarded than his fellows' : see it done. 

(Bassanio speaks aside to Leonabdo — at 
first with a smile, as though continuing 
about Launcelot: thefi earnestly.) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 81 

Launcelot. 
Father, in. — I cannot get a service, no ; — I have ne 'er 
a tongue in my head. — Father, come; I'll take my leave 
of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. 

(Exeunt Old Gobbo, led in hy Launcelot, 
to ShyxiOck's House L. After they are 
off, Eassanio comes forward.) 

Bassanio. 
{Coming forward, with Leonardo.) 
I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 

{Gives Leonaedo folded papers, which he 
has tahen from his girdle.) 
These things being bought and orderly bestow 'd, 
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
My best esteem 'd acquaintance: hie thee, go. 

(Exit Leonaedo R. U. E. BassaniO, cross- 
ing to L., is met hy Tubal coming forth 
from Shylock's House. Tubal hows; 
Bassanio, with a sneer, passes him hy. 
Exit Tubal, up to L., around corner 
of House. Enter Geatiano, passing 
Tubal and ignoring Mm. Geatiano, 
seeing Bassanio, as he is about to go 
off L. F. E., speaks.) 



Signior Bassanio ! 



^6 



Gratiano ! 



I have a suit to you. 



Geatiano. 



Bassanio. 



Geatiano. 



82 THE MEEOHANT OF VENICE 

Bassajtio. 
You have obtain 'd it. 

GrA-TIANO. 

Nay, you must not deny me : I must go 
With you to Belmont. 

Bassanio. 
Why, then you must. But, hear thee, Gratiano : 
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ! 
Pray thee, take pain 

T' allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild behavior, 
I be misconstru'd in the place I go to, 
And lose my hopes. 

Geatiasto. 
Signior Bassanio, hear me: 
If I do not put on a sober habit. 
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely; 
Nay, more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say "Amen"; 
Use all th' observance of civility. 
Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
To please his grandam, — never trust me more, 

Bassanio. 
Well, we shall see your bearing. 

Geatiano. 
Nay, but I bar to-night : you shall not gauge me 
By what we do to-night. 

Bassanio. 

No, that were pity : 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 83 

I would entreat you rather to put on 
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment. But fare you well: 
I have some business. 

Gkatiano. 

And I must to Lorenzo and the rest ! 

(Bassanio and Gkatiano clasp hands; then 
Exeunt, Bassanio to L. F. E., Gbatiano 
to R. IT. E. After they are clear off, 
Enter, from Shylock's House, L., 
Launcelot, with Old Gobbo, whom he 
leads across Stage, setting him on his 
way, and who mahes Exit R. F. E. 

As the GoBBOs come out of Shylock's 
House Jessica appears at ivindoiv, in 
House, L., where she stands, watching, 
until Old Gobbo is off ; then speaks ta 
Launcelot, as he returns toward 
House.) 

Jessica. 

I'm sorry thou wilt leave my father so: 
Our house is hell ; and thou, a merry devil, 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee : 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
Give him this letter : 

{Taking a sealed letter from her bosom, 
and dropping it to Launcelot.) 
do it secretly; — 
And so farewell : I would not have my father 
See me in talk with thee. 



84 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Launcelot. 
Adieu ; tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan, 
most sweet Jew ! adieu : these foolish drops do somewhat 
drown my manly spirit : adieu. 

(Exit Launcelot to R. F. E.) 

Jessica. 
Farewell, good Launcelot. — 
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
To be asham'd to be my father's chUdl 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners. Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, — 
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. 

(Exit Jessica hack into the House, L. The 
Scene begins to darken, and the Lights, 
in Windows of Houses, increase. 

Enter from up R. Loeenzo, Gra- 
TiANO, Salaeino and Soianio.) 

Lorenzo. 
Nay, we will slink away in supper-time. 
Disguise us at my lodging, and return 
All in an hour. 

Gratiano. 
"We have not made good preparation. 

^ Salaeino. 
We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 

Soi^Nio. 
'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order 'd, 
And better in my mind not undertook. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 85 

LOBENZO. 

(Impatiently.) 
We have two hours 
To furnish, us ! 

(Re-enter Launcelot from R. F. E.) 
Friend Launcelot, what's the news? 

Launcblot. 

'{First looks swiftly up at windows of Shy- 
lock's House, L., then behind him; 
sidles to Lorenzo L. C, and gives him 
Jessica's letter, which he draws fur- 
tively from pouch at his side, as he 
speaks.) 
An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem 
to signify. 

Lorenzo. 
(Taking letter.) 

I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand: 
And whiter than the paper that it writ on 
Is the fair hand that writ. 

(Lorenzo kisses, then opens, letter.) 

Gratiano. 

'{Aside to the others, as he observes 
Lorenzo kiss letter.) 

Love-news, in faith. 

Launcelot. 

By your leave, sir. 

(About to cross him, toward L.) 



86 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

LOEENZO. 

{Looks up from letter, which he has been 
reading, and stops Launcelot.) 
Whither goest thou? 

Laxjncelot. 
Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to- 
night with my new master the Christian. 

Lorenzo. 
Hold here, take this : 

{Gives Launcelot money.) 
tell gentle Jessica 
I will not fail her; — speak it privately; 
Go.— 

(Launcelot crosses to House L., and Exix 
through door.) 
Gentlemen, 
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? 
I am provided of a torch-bearer. 

Salaeino. 
Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 

SOLANIO. 

And so will I. 

LOEENZO. 

Meet me and Gratiano. 
At Gratiano 's lodging some hour hence. 

Salaeino. 

'Tis good we do so. ~ 

(Exeunt Salaeino and Solanio, rapidly, 
E. U. E.) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 87 

Geatiano. 
Was not that letter from fair Jessica? 

Lorenzo. 
I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
How I shall take her from her father's house; 
What gold and jewels she is furnish 'd with, 
What page's suit she hath in readiness. — 
Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest: 

(Gives letter to Geatiano.) 
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. 

(Exeunt Geatiano and Lobbnzo L. XJ. E.) 

(The scene is note all in shadow. Entee, 
from door of Shylock's Hoxjse, L., 
Launcelot, followed, at a few steps dis- 
tance by Shtlock. Launcelot gets to 
E., Shyx,ock speaks, as he enters. 

Shylock is fully dressed, as in the 
FntsT Act, except that he wears a shull 
cap instead of turban and that he does 
not wear Ms outer night-cloah: he is 
presently to return into House for 
these. 

The House of Shylock is now illumi- 
nated within. A shaft of orange-yellow 
light streams from the opened door, out 
upon the Stage.) 

Shylock. 
Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be the ^ judge 
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
What, Jessica! — thou shalt not gormandize, 
As thou hast done with me ; — what, Jessica ! — 
^ Keightley. 



88 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;— * 
Why, Jessica, I say! 



Launcelot. 
Why, Jessica! 

Shylock. 
Who bids thee call! I do not bid thee call. 

Launcelot. 
Yonr worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing 
without bidding. 

(Entbb from House, door L^ Jessica.) 

Jessica. 
CaU you? what is your will? 

Shylock. 
(L. C.) 
I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 
There are my keys. — 

{Giving her ring of Jceys from his girdle, 
but retaining his grasp upon them, 
while they are in her hand, until "to 
my bouse," when he releases them. 
Jessica denotes covert eagerness in 
taking the keys.) 

But wherefore should I go? 
I am not bid for love ; tbey flatter me : 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian. — Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my bouse. — ^I am Tigbt loth to go : 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 89 

Latjnoelot. 
I beseeeli you, sir, go: my young master doth expect 



your re-proach. 



So do I Ms! 



Shylook. 
(Grimly.) 



Launcelot. 
And they have conspired together, — I will not say you 
shall see a masque; but if you do, then — 

Shyix)ok. 
(With bitter contempt.) 
What, are there masques'? — Hear you me, Jessica: 
Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum, 
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck 'd fife. 
Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street, 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish 'd faces; 
But stop my house's ears, — I mean my casements: 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. — By Jacob's staff, I swear 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
But I will go. — Go you before me, sirrah ; 
Say I will come. 

(Exit Shylock, hacJc into his HotrsE, L.) 

Launcelot. 
(Bowing to Shtlock, and speaking this as 

he leaves scene.) 

I will go before, sir. — 
(Shylock off: Launcelot comes down, 

glances in at door L., bach to B. C, 

and speaks rapidly to Jessica.) 



90 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

Mistress, look out at window for all this ; 
There will come a Christian by 
Will be worth a Jewess' eye! 
{As Launcelot speaks this, Rb-entee, from 
his House, L., Shylock. He hears 
Launcelot speak to Jessica, but does 
not catch his words: at sight of Shy- 
lock, Launcelot darts up-Stage and so 
makes Exit, R. U. E. Shylock crosses 
swiftly to Jessica, at L. C, takes her 
by a ivrist, forces her to gaze into 
his eyes, which she does with an expres- 
sion of gentle submissiveness.) 

Shylock. 
(Pointing off after Launcelot, with cane, as he speaks.) 
What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? 

Jessica. 

His words were, "Farewell, Mistress"; nothing else. 

(Pause.) 

Shylock, 
(Believing her and relieved; going down 
L., gets his cloak.) 
The patch is kind enough ; but a huge feeder. 
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild-cat : drones hive not with me ; 
Therefore I part with him ; and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 
His borrow 'd purse. — Well, Jessica, go in: 
Perhaps I will return immediately : 

(Faint and far off, the sound of merry 
music is heard.) 
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 91 

"Fast bind, fast find,"— 

A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. 

(Shylock stands gasing: Jessica, with 
meekness, inclines her head, then goes 
in at door to House L., closes door after 
her. After an instant's pause, sound 
of a chain holt. Shylock satisfied, 
nods head; turns, goes slowly up-Stage, 
Exit, R. U. E., to R. Slight pause; then 
Jessica peers out at window, coMtiously 
gazing after Shylock.) 

Jessica. 
Farewell ! and if my fortune be not crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost ! 

(Exit Jessica at Window. Music swells. 
Masquers throng across the Stage, 
coming down Streets from Back, L. and 
R. Then Enter Geatiano and Sala- 
EINO L. U. E.) 

Gbatiano. 
(Getting to R., beneath the "pent-house" there.) 
This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
Desir'd us to make stand. 

Salaeino. 

His hour is almost past. 

Geatiano. 
And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
For lovers ever run before the clock. 

Salaeino. 
Here comes Lorenzo! 



92 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

(Enteb Loeenzo, masqued, coming rapidly 
from R. U. E.) 

LOBENZO. 

Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ; 
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: 
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
I'll watch as long for you then. — Come, approach; 
Here dwells my father Jew. — Ho! who's within? 

{Clapping his hands, as he calls. Jessica 
appears above at Window, dressed as 
a page and wrapped with a cloak.) 

Jessica. 
Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, 
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 

LOBBNZO. 

Lorenzo, and thy love. 

Jessica. 
Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed, — 
For who love I so much? And now who knows 
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? 

Lokenzo. 
Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 

Jessica. 
Here, catch this casket ; 

(Throws down to Lobenzo a heavy casket, 
leaning down as far as she can from 
Window-, while he stretches up: Lo- 
BENzo all hut drops it; recovers, and 
passes it to Salabino.) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 93 

it is worth the pains, 
I'm glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, 
For I am much asham'd of my exchange: 
But love is bhnd, and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit; 
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
To see me thus transformed to a boy. 

LOBENZO. 

Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 

Jessica. 
What, must I hold a candle to my shames! 
They in themselves, good sooth, are too-too light. 
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 
And I should be obscur'd. 

LOBEKZO. 

So are you, sweet, 
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
But come at once ; 

For the close night doth play the runaway. 
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 

Jessica. 
I wiU make fast the doors, and gild myself 
With some more ducats, and be with you straight. 
(Exit Jessica above.) 

Geatiano. 
Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew! 

LoBENZO. 

Beshrew me but I love her heartily ; 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her; 



94 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

And fail' she is, if that mine eyes he true ; 

And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; 

And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, 

Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

(Entee, beloio, from House, door L., Jes- 
sica, in page's suit, with a short cloak.) 

What, art thou come? — 

(Jessica stands, hesitating, in doorway; 
she is embarrassed hy the gaze of Gba- 
TiANo and Salaeisto. Loeenzo goes to 
her, as he speahs. He takes from Jes- 
sica a large "double-bag" of ducats, 
which she is carrying. Loeenzo throios 
this over his shoulder. Salaeino still 
holds the Casket; he and Geatiano ex<- 
change glances, fbudging each other — as 
though thinking that Loeenzo has for- 
gotten it. Loeenzo and Jessica move 
slightly from House door, as though 
about to go up toward Street at Back; 
hut stop; Loeenzo turns, gestures per^ 
emptorily to Salaeino to give the Cas- 
ket to him. Salaeino makes a grimace 
and hands Casket to Loeenzo, — ivho, 
taking it, places it under an arm and, 
as he and Jessica move toward Street 
at Back, speaks.) 

Loeenzo. 
(Continued.) 
On, gentlemen, away I 
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay, 

(^5 Loeenzo and Jessica move toward 
Back, a Geoup of Masqu^es comes rush- 
ing down Street, romping and singing. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 95 

Jessica shrinks from them, pressing 
against Lorenzo, — who, protectingly, 
throws Ms cloak about her: they turn 
toward L., meeting more Masqueks : 
then turn down-Stage and, running, 
Exeunt E. F. E. 

Exeunt Geatiano and Salaeino, 
R. F. E. 

Masquebs throng upon the Stage, — 
then Exeunt, to R. 

Slight Pause. 

Enter Shylook, comi/ng from Back, 
R., and doivn Street. He comes slowly 
forward to Door, down L. ; pauses 
there; raises his hand to grasp knocker 
as Lights fade out and Dark Change.) 



Second Scene, Venice; A Room in the Hotjse of Shy- 
lock. 

An austerely simple room. Across it, 
from L. to R. at Back, a Platform elevated 
considerably above Stage — i.e., the floor of 
an Upper Room. 

A stairway L. gives access to Upper 
Room. A lighted lamp hangs over stair- 
way. A desk-like table R., against wall. 
Papers, quill-pens and ink-stand upon this 
table. A huge, iron-bound money chest at 
L., open: several other chests in upper 
room, open and rich materials protruding 
from them in disorder. On table R. a 
letter and yellow veil, left by Jessica. 
Shylock is heard knocking upon door R. 
Shylock calls: "Why, Jessica, I say!" 
Knock repeated: door swings open: Shy- 
lock is revealed standing in doorway, — 
amazed at finding his dwelling unguarded 
and open. He Enteks, stands gazing about 
room and listening; then calls again: "Jes- 
sica!" The sounds of revelry, heard 
faintly, increase. Shylock turns, goes out 
at door calling imperatively : "Jessica!" 
Shylock comes back into room; as he does 
so, he strikes keys dropped in doorway by 
Jessica, with one of his feet: he snatches 
up keys; calls again: "Jessica, Jessica!" 
Shylock sees a jeweled ring upon floor; 
rushes across stage and snatches it up, 
crying "Jessica, my girl, Jessica!" He 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 97 

sees the open chest and utters a piercing 
cry as he realizes that he has been robbed. 
Turning, he sees, snatches up and reads, 
the letter, left with veil, by Jessica. The 
Masqtjeks are thronging past, outside his 
house. Shylock, as he reads, then rushing 
to door and out: 

Shylook. 
Fled witli a Christian ! — my Christian ducats ! — ■ 
Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter! 
A sealed hag, two sealed hags of ducats, 
Of douhle ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter! 
And jewels, — ^two stones, two rich and precious stones, 
Stol'n by my daughter! — Justice! tind the girl! 
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats ! 
Justice ! the law ! the Duke shall do me justice I 
My daughter! my ducats, and my daughter! 

(Exit Shylock and Baric Change to) 



Third Scene, Venice; The House of Shylock agam. 
Time, Midday/. 

Salaeino. 
Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail: 
With him is Gratiano gone along; 
And in their ship I'm sure Lorenzo is not. 

SOLANIO. 

The villain Jew with outcries rais 'd the Duke ; 
Who went with him to search Bassanio 's ship. 

Salaeino. 
He came too late, the ship was under sail : 
But there the Duke was given to understand 
That in a gondola were seen together 
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica. 

SOLANIO. 

I never heard a passion so confus'd, 

So strange-outrageous, and so variable. 

As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
"My daughter! — my ducats! — my daughter! 
Fled with a Christian ! — my Christian ducats ! — 
Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter ! ' ' — 

Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 

Or he shall pay for this. 

Salariko. 
Marry, well remembered! — 
But, what news on the Eialto? 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 99 

SOLANIO. 

Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that Antonio hath 
a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the 
Goodwins, I think they call the place ; a very dangerous 
flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship 
lie buried. 

Salaeino. 
I would it might prove the end of his losses. 

SOLANIO. 

{Looking off to R. U. E.) 
Let me say "Amen" betimes, lest the devil cross my 
prayer, — for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. 
{Then, Enter Shtlock, R. U. E. He is 
without hat, his clothes disordered, his 
hair disheveled; his face ghastly pale, 
his eyes biasing, his manner vm,re- 
strained and wild. Re comes on with 
a half-running rush. As he enters 
Salaeino and Solanio give way before 
him and get to R. down Stage. Shy- 
lock to L. C, above them.) 

SoiANIO. 

{Continued.) 
How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants? 

Shylock. 
You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my 
daughter's flight. 

Salaeino. 
That's certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor that 
made the wings she flew withal. 



100 THE MERCHANT OP VENICE 

SOLANIO. 

And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was 
fledged ; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave 
the dam. 

Shylock. 
{Slightly to L.) 
She is damned for it. 

Salaeino. 
That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. 

Shylock. 
(Raising his arms, gesture of impotent rage.) 
My own flesh and blood to rebel! 

Salaeino. 
(Anxiously, but assuming carelessness.) 
But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any 
loss at sea or no? 

Shylock. 
There I have another bad match : a bankrupt, a prodi- 
gal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto: — a 
beggai', that was used to come so smug upon the mart ; — 
let him look to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; — 
let him look to his bond : he was wont to lend money for 
a Christian courtesy; — let him look to his bond. 

Salabino. 
Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his 
flesh: what's that good for? 

Shylock. 
To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it 
will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hin- 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 101 

dered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked 
at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, 
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what's his 
reason? I am a Jew! Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a 
Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, atfections, pas- 
sions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same 
weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the 
same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and 
summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not 
bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison 
us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble 
you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his 
humility? revenge: if a Christian wrong a Jew, what 
should his sufferance be by Christian example? why, re- 
venge. The viUany you teach me, I will execute; and it 
shall go hard but I will better the instruction. 

SoioANIO. 

Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot be 
matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. 

(Exeunt Salabino and Solanio, E. U. E. 
as Enter from hack L. U. E. Tubal.) 

Shylock. 
How now. Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou 
found my daughter? 

Tubal. 
I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot 
find her. 

Shylock. 
Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone, cost 
me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The curse never 



•^4 



102 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it till now; — 
two thousand ducats gone in that; and other precious, 
precious jewels. — I would my daughter were dead at 
my foot, and the jewels in her ear! would she were 
hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No 
news of them? — Why, so: — and I know not what's spent 
in the search : why, then, loss upon loss ! the thief gone 
with so much, and so much to find the thief ; and no sat- 
isfaction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring but what 
lights o' my shoulders; no sighs but o' my breathing; 
no tears but o ' my shedding. 

(Shylock clutches his body garment, tear- 
ing it open at the throat and breast, 
with left hand, and beats his breast 
vnth right, clenched.) 

Tubal. 
Yes, other men have ill luck, too : Antonio, as I heard 
in Genoa, — 

ShYIiOCK. 

{Interrupting, a look of incredulous joy on his face.) 
What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 

Tubal. 
Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 

Shylock. 
I thank God, I thank God — {Then almost in terror, 
lest the news be contradicted.) Is it true, is it true? 

Tubal. 
I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 103 

Shylock. 
{Grasping Tubal hy an arm.) 
I thank thee, good Tubal : — good news, good news ! ha, 
ha! — where? in Genoa? 

Tubal. 
Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night 
fourscore ducats. 

Shtlock. 
{With a long, in-draum sighing moan, as 
though physically hurt.) 
Thou stickest a dagger in me: — I shall never see my 
gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! {As though 
overwhelmed at the enormity of the criminal extrava- 
gance.) Fourscore ducats! 

Tubal. 
There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my com- 
pany to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. 

Shylock. 
I am very glad of it : — I '11 plague him ; I '11 torture him : 
— ^I am glad of it. 

Tubal. 
One of them showed me a ring that he had of your 
daughter for a monkey. 

Shylock. 
Out upon her ! Thou torturest me, Tubal : it was my 
turquoise? I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor: I 
would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. 

Tubal. 
But Antonio is certainly undone. 



104 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Shylock. 
Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee me 
an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have 
the heart of him, if he forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, 
I can make what merchandise I will. Go, Tubal, and 
meet me at our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; at our syna- 
gogue, Tubal. 

(Exeunt, — Tubal to L. TJ. E.; Shylook 
into House, L.) 



END or SECOND ACT. 



THIRD ACT. 

First Scene, Belmont; the Casket Chamber in the 
House of Portia. Time, Forenoon. 

At Tormentors, Right mid Left, Dra- 
peries. A Three Arch Set Piece extends 
from L. Tormentor diagonally to a point 
L. C. on line of Second Entrance. Another 
Three Arch Set Piece extends from R. Tor- 
mentor to a point R. C. on line of Second 
Entrance. On this line, extending from 
R. C. to L. C, a third Three Arch Set 
Piece — the center arch thereof being larger 
than any of the other arches. 

Upon a low platform, R., the three cas- 
kets, covered. 

Outside of Arches a marble terrace, — 
with, R. and L., balustrades. 

At Back a wide Stairway, descending 
into a Garden. The tops of Cypress Trees, 
groiving beside this Stairway, are visible. 

The whole set is backed with a cyclorama 
giving view of the Italian Countryside. 

L. C. stands a large chair. Near it, a 
footstool. 

Enter, L. F. E., Portia, Nerissa, Bal- 
thazar and Jester, mth Attendants. 

Music, — a Flourish of Moorish Trum- 
pets. 

Portia goes to throne-chair, L. C, 
Nerissa takes place L. of her: Jester at 
her feet, to L. Balthazar R. of her. 

105 



106 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Enteb, coming up Stairway as from 
Garden, and through center Arch, Peinoe 
OP MoBooco, attended hy Moorish Soldiees 
and hy Slaves, who hear precious gifts. 

Music ceases. 

MOEOCCO. 

Mislike me not for my complexion, 

The shadow 'd livery of the burnish 'd sun, 

To whom I am a neighbor and near bred. 

Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 

Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 

And let us make incision for our love, 

To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 

I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 

Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love, I swear 

The best-regarded virgins of our clime 

Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue, 

Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 

Portia. 
In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: 
But, if my father had not scanted me, 
And hedg'd me by his will, to yield myself 
His wife who wins me by what means I told you. 
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 
As any comer I have look'd on yet 
For my affection. 

MOEOCOO, 

Even for that I thank you : 
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 107 

To try my fortune. By this scimitar, — 
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince 
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, — 
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, 
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 
To win thee, lady ! 

Portia. 
You must take your chance; 
And either not attempt to choose at all. 
Or swear before you choose, — if you choose wrong, 
Never to speak to lady afterward 
In way of marriage : therefore be advis 'd. 

Morocco. 
Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. 

Portia. 

Discover 
The several caskets to this noble prince. — 

(Balthazar removes the covering from the 
Caskets, then withdraws, at bach E. 
Portia seats herself L. C. Morocco 
goes to the Caskets.) 
Now make your choice. 

Morocco. 
The first, of gold, which this inscription bears, — 

"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire" ; 
The second, silver, which this promise carries, — 

'^'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves"; 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, — ^ 



108 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

' * Who cliooseth me must give and hazard all lie hath.-^" 
{Turning toward Pobtia.) 
How shall I know if I do choose the right? 

Pobtia. 
The one of them contains my picture, prince : 
If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 

MOEOCCO. 

Some god direct my judgment ! Let me see ; 
I will survey th' inscriptions back again. 
"What says this leaden casket? 

"Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
(PoETiA anxious as he pauses over lead 
Cashet.) 
Must give, — for what? for lead? hazard for lead? 
This casket threatens: men that hazard all 
Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
A golden mind stoops not to show of dross ; 
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
What says the silver with her virgin hue? 

"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." 
As much as he deserves ! — Pause there, Morocco, 
And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
Thou dost deserve enough: 
What if I stray 'd no further, but chose here? — ' 
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold: 

"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." 
Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her; 
From the four corners of the earth they come, 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint : 
One of these three contains lier heavenly picture : 
Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation 
To think so base a thought: 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 109 

Never so rich a gem 

"Was set in worse than gold! 

Deliver me the key : 

Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! 

POETIA. 

There, take it, prince; 

{Gives him the key from her girdle.) 
and if my form lie there, 
Then I am yours. 

(MoBOCoo takes key from her and imlocks 
the Golden Casket, disclosing a limnan 
Skull, ivith a scroll in one of its eye 
sockets.) 

Morocco. 
hell! what have we here? 
{Taking out the skull.) 
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing. 

(MoEocco takes out the scroll, returns the 
Skull to the Golden Casket, and reads.) 
"AH that glisters is not gold, — 
Often have you heard that told: 
Many a man his life has sold 
But my outside to behold: 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold. 
Young in limbs, in judgment old. 
Your answer had not been inscroU'd: 
Fare you well; your suit is cold." 

Cold indeed ; and labor lost : 
Then, farewell, heat ; and welcome, frost ! — 
Portia, adieu. I have too griev'd a heart 



110 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. 

{Flourish; Moorish March. Exeunt, Mo- 
Eocco and his Train, Arch 0. a/nd down 
Stairway.) 

POETIA. 

A gentle riddance. — Draw the curtains, go.— ■ 

Let all of his complexion choose me so. 

{A Tucket is heard, sounding off R., at 
Bach, as Pobtia ends, "choose me so." 
Enter, from L., hy Terrace at Back, 
coming through Arch, Stephano, who 
holds in leash two Italian Greyhounds. 
He is accompanied hy Four Huntsmen, 
one of whom hears a hooded Falcon 
upon his wrist. 

As the Tucket sounds, two of Portia's 
attendant Women have gone off hur- 
riedly to L. They return immediately, 
bringing rich Mantles, which they place 
about her and Neeissa. 

Stephano oMd the Huntsmen, imth 
Dogs, form in Group. Portia is mov- 
ing, about to address them, when 
Enter, with dignified haste, coming up 
Stairway at Back C, Balthazar, who 
is followed at a few steps distance by 
Two Pages, most prettily dressed and 
bearing rich Gifts and laden with 
Flowers.) 

Balthazar. 
Madam, there is alighted at your g&te 
A young Venetian, one that comes before 
To signify th' approaching of his lordj 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 111 

From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, 

To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 

Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 

So likely an ambassador of love: 

A day in April never came so sweet, 

To show how costly summer was at hand, 

As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

(PoETiA has listened with intense eager- 
ness; motionless the while, save for a 
slight gesture with which she has heck- 
oned Neeissa closer to her, at same 
time letting fall her Mantle. On cue, 
"of his lord" she whispers low, scarce 
audible, the word "Bassanio!" 

As Balxhazae ceases speaking, Poe- 
TiA goes up a little, taking the Flowers 
offered by the Pages, which completely 
fill her arms; then, speaking as she 
does so, turns to face down-Stage.) 

POETIA. 

Come, come, Nerissa, for I long to see 
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly! 

(PoETiA is turning away toward Back, C, 
about to go; Neeissa is moving to fol- 
low her, as she speaks; Balthazae, 
bowing, makes way for them; the at- 
tendant Women are about to follow.) 

Neeissa. 
Bassanio, Lord Love, if thy will it be ! 

(PoETiA, burying her face in the Flowers, 
just breathes the name "Bassanio!" 
All are m motion and 

tableaux cubtains close. 



Second Scene, Belmont; the Casket Chamber again. 
Time, Night. 

Geatiano is heard singing, off E. Entee 
Neeissa L. F. E., goes up to C, loohs off, 
sees Geatiano approaching, runs down L. 
and hides beside throne-chair. Entee from 
E., at bach to C, Geatiano, singing and 
accompanying himself upon a lute. He 
perceives Neeissa but affects not to and is 
turning away, G. Neeissa utters a little 
laughing cry and runs to him; he turns, 
tahes her in his arms; they hiss, as the 
Jestee appears, stealing up the Stairway, 
watching them. Neeissa and Geatiano 
come into room; the Jestee is following 
them, when he perceives Poetia and Ne- 
eissa, off to E, U. E. He indicates them, 
grimacing ; then capers into room, and 
Exit, down L. F. E. Entee, C, at bach 
from E. U. E., Poetia and Bassanio. At- 
tendants come on at L. F. E. 

Poetia. 
I pray yon, tarry : panse a day or two 
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company: therefore, forbear awhile. 
There's something tells me — but it is not love — 
I V70uld not lose you; and you know yourself, 
Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
But lest you should not understand me well, — 
And yet a maiden hath no^tongiie but thought, — 
I would detain you here some month or two 

112 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 113 

Before you venture for me. I could teacla you 
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn; 
So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me; 
One half of me is yours, th' other half yours, — 
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, 
And so all yours ! 

I speak too long; but 'tis to piece the time, 
To eke it, and to draw it out in length. 
To stay you from election. 

Bassanio. 

Let me choose; 
For, as I am, I live upon the rack. 

Portia. 
Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack, 
Where men enforced do speak any thing. 

Bassaktio. 
Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. 

Portia. 
"Well then, confess, and live. 

Bassanio. 

Confess, and love> 
Had been the very sum of my confession : 
But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 

Portia. 
Away, then! I am lock 'd in one of them: 
If you do love me, you will find me out.— ^ 



114 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof. — 

Let music sound, while he doth make his choice; 

(Gkatiano and Nerissa retire up-Stage 
L. C. Attendants all ivithdraw. Por- 
tia seats herself upon throne-chair. 
Nerissa goes to her. Gratiano stands 
R. Bassanio advances to the Cashets, 
examines them, scanning the inscrip- 
tions on each. Very soft Music sounds. 
As Music dies away he speaks, begin- 
ning on "fancy's knell.") 

Portia. 

{Continued.) 
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
Fading in music : that the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream 
And watery death-bed for him. He may win; 
And what is music then? then music is 
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
To a new-crowned monarch: such it is 
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
That creep into the dreaming- bridegroom's ear. 
And summon him to marriage. — Now he goes; 
Live thou, I live : — ^with much-much more dismay, 
I view the fight than thou that mak'st the fray, 

(Song, PPP., while Bassanio comments on 
the Caskets.) 

Song. 
"Tell me where is fancy bred. 
Or in the heart or in the head? 
How begot, how nourished? 
Reply, reply. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 115 

"It is engender 'd in the eyes, 
While gazing fed; and fancy dies 
In the cradle where it lies. 

Let ns all ring fancy's knell: 
(Bassanio begins to speak on "knell") 
I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
Ding, dong, bell." 

Bassanio, 
"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire ;" 
"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;" 
(Bassanio touches the golden Casket, then 
lays his hand upon the silver one.) 
So may the outward shows be least themselves: 
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
But, being season 'd with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil? In religion. 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 
There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
Look on beauty, 

And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight; 
Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
Making them lightest that wear most of it. 
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 
To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word. 
The seeming truth which cunning times put on 
T' entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold. 
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee ; 
Nor none of thee, thou stale and common drudge 
'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead. 



116 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught, 
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; 
And here choose I: — joy be the consequence! 

(Bassanio goes to Portia, who gives Mm 
hey, then returns to, unlocks and opens 
the lead Casket, while Poktta speaks.) 

Portia. 
(Aside.) 
How all the other passions fleet to air ! — 

love, be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 

In measure rain thy joy; scant this excess I 

1 feel too much thy blessing: make it less, 
For fear I surfeit ! 

Bassanio. 
{Opening lead Casket and taking out small 
oval-framed picture of Portia.) 
What find I here? 
Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god 
Hath come so near creation? Here's the scroll. 
The continent and summary of my fortune. 
(Reads.) 
"You that choose not by the view, 
Chance as fair, and choose as true ! 
Since this fortune falls to you. 
Be content, and seek no new. 
If you be well pleas 'd with this, 
And hold your fortune for your bliss. 
Turn you where your lady is, 
And claim her with a loving kiss." 
(Music ceases.) 
A gentle scroll. — 

(Bassanio coming to Portia.) 
Fair lady, by your leave; 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 117 

(Bassanio takes Poktia in Ms arms.) 
I come by note, to give and to receive, 
As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
Until confirm 'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 

(Bassanio kisses Portia. Geatiano and 
Neeissa likewise embrace and kiss.) 

Portia. 
(After the kiss, drawing slightly back from Mm.) 
You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 
Such as I am: though for myself alone 
I would not be ambitious in my wish, 
To wish myself much better; yet for you 
I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more 

rich; 
That, only to stand high in your account, 
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends. 
Exceed account: but the full sum of me 
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd: 
Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But she may learn ; then happier in this. 
She is not bred so duU but she can learn ; 
Happiest of all, in that her gentle spirit 
Commits itself to yours to be directed. 
As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants. 
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now. 
This house, these servants, and this same myself, 
Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ; 

(Taking from one of her fingers a Ring, 
which she places upon the ring finger 
of Bassanio 's left hand. Neeissa at 



118 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

same time and in same manner gives a 

Ring to Geatiano.) 
Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
Let it presage the ruin of your love, 
And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 

Bassanio. 
Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins : 
But when this ring 
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 

{Hand to his heart.) 
0, then be bold to say " Bassanio 's dead!" 

(Neeissa and Geatiano come forward, C.) 

Neeissa. 
My lord and lady, it is now our time. 
That have stood by, and seen our wishes prosper, 
To cry, good joy: — good joy, my lord and lady! 

Geatiano. 
My Lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
I wish you all the joy that you can wish; 
For I am sure you can wish none from me : 
And, when your honors mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
Even at that time I may be married too. 

Bassanio. 
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 

Geatiano. 
I thank your lordship, you-have got me one. 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 119 

You lov'd, I lov'd; for intermission 

No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 

Your fortune stood upon the caskets there, 

And so did mine, as the matter falls; 

For -wooing here, until I swet again, 

And swearing, till my very roof was dry 

With oaths of love, at last, — if promise last, — 

I got a promise of this fair one here, 

To have her love, provided that your fortune 

Achiev'd her mistress. 

POETIA. 

Is this true, Nerissa? 

Nekissa. 
Madam, it is, so you stand pleas 'd withal. 

Bassanio. 
And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? 

Geatiano. 
Yes, faith, my lord. 

Bassanio. 
Our feast shall be much honor 'd in your marriage. 

Gbatiano. 
{Looking off Stage.) 
But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? 
What, and my old Venetian friend Solanio ? 

(Enteb Arch C, coming up Stairway, Lo- 
BENzo, Jessica and Solanio.) 

Bassanio. 
Lorenzo and Solanio, welcome hither; 



120 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

If that the youth of my new interest here 
Have power to bid you welcome. — By your leave, 
I bid my very friends and countrymen, 
Sweet Portia, welcome. 

POETIA. 

So do I, my lord; 
They are entirely welcome. 

LOBENZO. 

I thank your honor. — For my part, my lord, 
My purpose was not to have seen you here; 
But meeting with Solanio by the way, 
He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 
To come with him along. 

SOLANIO. 

I did, my lord; 
And I have reason for 't. Signor Antonio 
Commends him to you. 

(SoLANio gives to Bassanio a letter, as he 
speaks.) 

Bassaistio. 
Ere I ope his letter, 
I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 

SOLANIO. 

{Speaking with stress and significance.) 
Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; 
Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
Will show you his estate.. 

(Bassanio opens and reads the letter given 
him. ) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 121 

Gratiano. 
Nerissa, cheer yond stranger; bid her welcome. — 

(Neeissa goes to Jessica.) 
Your hand, Solanio: what's the news from Venice? 
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? 
I know he will be glad of our success; 
"We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 

SoiiANIO. 

I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost ! 
(Solanio and Gkatiano talk, apart.) 

POETIA. 

{Aside, watchmg Bassanio.) 
There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper, 
That steal the color from Bassanio's cheek: 
Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
Could turn so much the constitution 
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ! — 
With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself, 

(Portia to Bassanio, and laying hold of 
the opened letter in his hand.) 
And I must have the half of any thing 
That this same paper brings you. 

Bassanio. 

sweet Portia, 
Here are a few of the unpleasant 'st words 
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, 
When I did first impart my love to you, 
I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
Ran in my veins, — I was a gentleman; 
And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady, 
Rating myself as nothing, you shall see 
How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
My state was nothing, I should then have told you 



122 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed, 
I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy, 
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady, — 
The paper as the body of my friend. 
And every word in it a gaping wound. 
Issuing life-blood. — 

(Turning to Solanio.) 

But is it true, Solanio? 
Have all his ventures fail 'd I What, not one hit? 
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England? 
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India? 
And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch 
Of merchant-marring rocks? 

SOLANIO. 

Not one, my lord. 
Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
The present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it. Never did I know 
A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
So keen and greedy to confound a man ; 
He plies the Duke at morning and at night ; 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
If they deny him justice : twenty merchants, 
The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 
But none can drive him from the envious plea, 
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 

Jessica. 
(Coming forward, holding Loebistzo hy the hand.) 
"When I was with him, I have heard him swear. 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen. 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 123 

Than twenty times the valne of the sum 
That he did owe him: and I know, my lord, 
If law, authority, and power deny not, 
It will go hard with poor Antonio. 

POBTIA. 

{To Bassanio.) 
Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? 

Bassanio. 
The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
The best condition 'd and unwearied spirit 
In doing courtesies; and one in whom 
The ancient Roman honor more appears 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 

POETIA. 

What sum owes he the Jew? 

Bassanio. 
For me three thousand ducats. 

POBTIA. 

What, no more? 
Pay him sis thousand, and deface the bond ; 
Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
Before a friend of this description 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
First go with me to church and call me wife, 
And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. Come, away! 
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day: 
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer: 
Since you are dear-bought, I will love you dear. — ■ 
But let me hear the letter of your friend. 



124 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

Bassastio. 
(Readmg Letter.) 
"Sweet Bassanio, my sMps have all miscarried, my 
creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond 
to the Jew is forfeit; and since in paying it, it is im- 
possible I should live—" 

(Bassanio, overcome by emotion, cannot 
continue reading. Poetia gently takes 
Letter from him and, as he bows his 
head, holding one of his hands in one 
of hers, continues and finishes reading 
it.) 

Poetia. 
"... it is impossible I should live, all debts are 
cleared between you and I, if I might but see you at my 
death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure : if your love 
do not persuade you to come, let not my letter." 

love, dispatch all business, and be gone! 

Bassanio. 
Since I have your good leave to go away, 

I will make haste : but, till I come again, 
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 
Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. 

(Exeunt Omnbs — Bassanio and Poetia 
leading, Nbkissa and Geatiano next; 
then LoEENzo and Jessica, folloioed by 
SoLANio, to E. U. E., as 

tableaux ouetains close, fob an intebval of one minute. 

{The Double Wedding, — of Bassanio and 
Poetia, Gteatiano and Neeissa, — is here 
supposed.) 



Third Scene, the Casket Cha/mber again. Time, Late 
Afternoon of the Next Day. 

(Enter from R., coming through Center 
Arch, PoBTiA, Neeissa, Loeenzo, Jessica 
and Balthazar. Poetia has a sealed Let- 
ter in her hand.) 

LOEENZO. 

(To PoETU, as they come on.) 
Madam, although I speak it in your presence. 
You have a noble and a true conceit 
Of god-like amity; which appears most strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But if you knew to whom you show this honor, 
How true a gentleman you send relief, 
How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
I know you would be prouder of the work 
Than customary bounty can enforce you. 

Poetia. 
I never did repent for doing good, 
Nor shall not now: — 

This comes too near the praising of myself; 
Therefore no more of it : hear other things. — 
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
The husbandry and manage of my house 
Until my lord's return: for mine own part, 
I have toward heaven breath 'd a secret vow 
To live in prayer and contemplation, 
Only attended by Nerissa here, 
Until her husband and my lord's return: 

125 



126 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

There is a monastery two miles off ; 
And there we will abide. 

LOEENZO. 

Madam, with all my heart ; 
I shall obey you in all fair commands. 

POETIA. 

My people do already know my mind, 
And will acknowledge yon and Jessica 
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
So fare you well, till we shall meet again. 

LoEENZO. 

Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you I 

Jessica. 
I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 

Portia. 
I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas 'd 
To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 

(Exeunt Loebnzo and Jessica, Arch Cen- 
ter, to L. Poetia continues when they 
are off, turning to Balthazar.) 
Now, Balthazar, 

As I have ever found thee honest-true, 
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter. 

(Poetia gives Letter to Balthazar.) 
And use thou all th' endeavor of a man 
In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario; 
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee. 
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 127 

Whicli trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, 
But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee. 

Balthazae. 
Madam, I go with all-convenient speed. 

(Exit Balthazar hrislcly, through Center 
Arch, to E.) 

POETIA. 

Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 

That you yet know not of : we'll see our husbands 

Before they think of us. 

Neeissa. 

Shall they see us? 

Poetia. 

They shall, Nerissa {Archly) ; but in such a habit, 

That they shall think we are accomplished 

"With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, 

When we are both accoutered like young men, 

I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two. 

And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 

And speak between the change of man and boy 

With a reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps 

Into a manly stride ; and speak of frays. 

Like a fine-bragging youth; and tell quaint lies. 

How honorable ladies sought my love. 

Which I denying, they fell sick and died, — 

I could not do withal; — then I'll repent, 

And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them: 

And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell; 

That men shall swear I've discontinu'd school 

Above a twelvemonth: — I've within my mind 



128 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
Which I will practise. 

{Svdden transition from mocking merri- 
ment to serious and intent purpose, as 
she grasps Neeissa's hand, to hurry her 
away.) 
But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device 
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
At the park-gate; and therefore haste away, 
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 

(Exeunt at Back, C. down Stairway, as 



CUETAIN. 



END OF THIRD ACT. 



FOURTH ACT. 

Scene, Venice; A Coubt of Justice. Time, Midday. 
The Walls, Eight and Left, are formed 
hy heavy hlue Draperies. At L. is a 
square column surmounted by an image, in 
bronze, of The Lion of St. Mark. Before 
this is a raised Platform — with steps lead- 
ing up to it— upon which are a throne- 
chair, for the Duke of Venice, and four 
other seats (two on each side of it) for 
"the magnificoes of greatest port." 
Across, at bach, extends a roiv of throne- 
lihe seats for the Members of the Council. 
Above these, upon the wall, a reproduction 
of the fresco painted by Guarentio. In 
this back-wall, R. and L., are large doors. 
At E. {about line of 2nd E.) a high, square 
column surmounted by an image, in bronze, 
of St. Theodore. In loiver L. corner of 
Stage, a seat and small desk for Clerk of 
the CouitT. Up-Stage L., near to Plat- 
form, a square table, upon which are sev- 
eral large folio volumes; papers, ink-stand, 
quill-pens cmd sand-box. Upon floor, R, C, 
a pile of money-bags. 

Discovered, in their several places, the 
Duke of Venice, the Magnificoes, Mem- 
bers of the Council, the Clerk of the 
Court. Soldiers in armor, with great two- 
handed swords, guard the entrances and 
the ducal throne. In a group R., by the 

129 



130 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

pillar of St. Theodore, stand Antonio, ivith 
Gaoler, — in whose custody he is; Bassanio, 
Geatiano, Salaeino, and Solanio. Near to 
them stands a Monk. R. of the pillar stand 
various Lobds, Gentlemen and Citizens 
of Venice. Up-Stage, E., stand Tubal and 
Chus. 

Trumpets sound, immediately before the 
curtain rises, — in salutation to the Duke, 
then taking his place. There is a buzz of 
many murmuring voices as the scene is dis- 
closed. This 'ceases at a gesture by the 
Duke. 

Duke. 
(Looking toward E.) 
"Wliat, is Antonio here? 

Antonio. 
(E., taking a step forward.) 
Eeady, so please your grace. 

Duke. 
{Looking at Antonio fixedly; speaks very kindly.) 
I'm sorry for thee: thou art come to answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Antonio, 

I have heard 
Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate 
And that no lawful means can carry me 
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 
My patience to his fury; and am arm'd 



THE MERCHANT OF yENICE 131 

To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. 
Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

(SoLANio steps to R. so as to he visible 
through the open door, R. U. E.) 

SOIANIO. 

He's ready at the door : 

(SoLANio raises his arm, as in signal.) 
he comes, my lord. 

Duke. 
Make room, and let him stand before our face. — 

{An instant's pause. Enter Shylook, 
R. U. E. He comes on deliberately and 
firmly; advances far enough to he vis- 
ible from all parts of the house; stops, 
looks round the court room for An- 
tonio; locates Mm, fixes a glare upon 
him for a moment; then his face he- 
comes mash-like: he advances to center 
of Stage, bows gravely and low to the 
Duke — toward whom he shows great 
deference in his manner — then stands, 
calm and upright.) 

Duke. 
(Continued.) 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought 
Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse, more strange 
Than is thy strange-apparent cruelty; 



132 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

And where thou now exact 'st the penalty, — 
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, — 
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture. 
But, touch 'd with human gentleness and love, 
Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
That have of late so huddled on his back, 
Enow to press a royal merchant down, 
And pluck commiseration of his state 
From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, 
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train 'd 
To offices of tender courtesy. 
(Slight pause.) 
"We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 

Shylock. 
(C.) 
I have possess 'd your grace of what I purpose; 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond: 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive 
Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that; 
But say "It is my humor:" is it answer 'd? 
"What if my house be troubled with a rat, 
And I be pleas 'd to give ten thousand ducats 
To have it ban'd! "Wliat, are you answer'd yet? 
Some men there are love not a gaping pig; 
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; 
Now, for your answer: 
As there is no firm reason ta-be render 'd, 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; 
"Why he, a harmless, necessary cat ; 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 133 

So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 

More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answer 'd? 

Bassanio. 
{Speaking somewhat ivildly, in excitement.) 

This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 

T' excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

(Shylock, listening; to answer, turns 
slightly toward Bassanio; there is a 
iiichering gleam of resentment for a 
moment in his eyes: he has not forgot- 
ten that 'twas Bassanio objected, at 
first, to Antonio signing the bond which 
has brought him to the present danger; 
then Shtlock's countenance again be- 
comes stone hard, and he ivithdraws 
his glance, looking before him toward 
L. C. He speaks with cold, bitter con- 
tempt.) 

Shylock. 
I am not bound to please thee with my answer. 

Bassanio. 
(In a pleading manner.) 
Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 

Shylock. 
(Coldly bitter.) 
Hates any man the thing he would not kill? 

Bassanio. 
Every offense is not a hate at first. 



134 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

Shylock. 
{Turning toward him, dangerous and hit- 
ter; speaks abruptly.) 

What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? 

Antonio. 
(To Bassanio — with feeling, yet restraint.) 
I pray you, think, — you question with the Jew : 
You might as well go stand upon the beach, 
And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
You may as well use question with the wolf. 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; 
You may as well do anything most hard, 
As seek to soften that, — than which what's harder? — 
His Jewish heart: — therefore, I do beseech you. 
Make no more offers, {To Duke.) use no further means, 
But, with all brief and plain conveniency. 
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 

Bassanio. 
(To Shylock, talcing up one of the money- 
bags and by gesture indicating the 
others.) 
For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 

Shylock. 

{Turning toward Bassanio, advances 

slowly to him, gazing into his eyes; 

pointing dowmvard, with a stah-lihe 

gesture, at the money-hags, hut ivith- 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 135 

out withdrawing Ms eyes from Bas- 
SANio's, speaks: as he utters the words 
"not draw them" he hicks one of the 
money-hags aside.) 
If every ducat in six tliousand ducats 
Were in sis parts, and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them, — I would have my bond. 

DXTKE. 

How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none? 

Shylock. 
{Facing about, returns toward C, speaks 
with restraint but great strength, and, 
at close, with truculence.) 
What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? 
You have among you many a purchas'd slave. 
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
Because you bought them : — shall I say to you, 
"Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?" 
"Why sweat they under burdens? let their beds 
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
Be season 'd with such viands?" You will answer, 
"The slaves are ours": — so do I answer you: 
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him. 
Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it. 
If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
I stand for judgment : answer, — shall I have it? 

Duke. 
{After regarding Shylook for a moment 
with a steady cold gaze of aversion. 



136 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

Enter E. U. E., very quietly and not 
attracting attention, a Ducal Messen- 
GBE; he whispers to Solanio.) 

Upon my power I may dismiss this court, 

Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 

Whom I have sent for to determine this, 

Come here to-day. 

SOLANIO. 

{To the Duke, indicating the Ducal Messenger.) 
My lord, here stays without 
A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
New come from Padua. 

Duke. 

{With strong interest.) 
Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 

(Exit Solanio mid Ducal Messenger, E. 
U. E. Shylock gases intently up at 
Duke, then toward door, E. U. E.) 

Bassanio. 
Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet ! 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood, 

Antonio. 
{With sad and gentle smile.) 
I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me: 
You cannot better be employ 'd, Bassanio, 
Than to live still, and wrrt« mine epitaph. 

'{Clasping Bassanio hy the hand. — ^Entee 
E, U. E. Solanio, the Ducal Messen- 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 137 

GEE, escorting Nebissa, who is dressed 
as a lawyer's clerk. They pause at 
their former stations. She advances 
to L. C, there stands, and bows to the 
Duke. Shylock attentively ivatching: 
he listens with attention till Nerissa 
presents letter: then, going down upon 
one knee, he deliberately and carefully 
sharpens the edge of his knife upon 
sole of one of his shoes.) 

Duke. 
Came you from Padua, from Bellario? 

Nebissa. 
From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace. 

(Nebissa advances, ascends the steps and, 
kneeling, presents to the Duke a Let- 
ter, which is folded lengthwise, tied 
with narrow silk cord and sealed with 
wax. The Duke takes it, breaks it open 
and reads. Nerissa retires, bacJcward, 
to her former station and there waits.) 

Bassanio. 
(To Shylock, ivhom he has been watching with horror.) 
Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 

Shylock. 
(Pauses, looks up at Bassanio, looks past 
him. with baleful gaze, at Antonio, 
points at him with knife as he answers; 
then resumes whetting of the knife.) 
To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there. 

(Bassanio, in distress, turns cnvay. Gea- 



138 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

TiANO comes forward and speaks wn- 
grily, standing E. C, over Shtlook.) 

Gbatiano. 
Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Thou mak'st thy knife keen: but no metal can, 
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness 
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee? 

Shylock. 
{Contemptuously — without looking up.) 
No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 

Gbatiano. 
(Furious, and with violence.) 
0, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog! 
And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith. 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit 
Govern 'd a wolf, for thy desires 
Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 

Shylock. 
. (Rising, tries edge and point of knife with 
thumb; sheathes it; draws Bond from 
his bosom, and taps upon seal, as he 
speaks. "Rail" is uttered with a cruel 
and contemptuous intonation.) 
Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond. 
Thou but offend 'st thy lungs to speak so loud. 

(His tone isloiv, strong and ominous.) 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin. — 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 139 

(Shylock loohs past Gkatiano on these 
■words, at Antonio.) 
I stand here for law. 

Duke. 

{Looking up from letter, which he has been reading.) 
This letter from Bellario doth commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court. — 

{To Neeissa.) 
Where is he? 

Nebissa. 
He attendeth here hard by, 
To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 

Duke. 

With all my heart. — Some three or four of you 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. — 

(Exeunt Solanio, Salaeino and Gentle- 
men E. U. E.) 
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario 's letter. 

(Duke makes signal to Cleek, who ad- 
vances, takes letter, returns to his 
place, there stands while he reads it, 
a/nd being finished, sits. Shylock lis- 
tens with vigilant attention to the read- 
ing of the letter and notes Pobtia, 
when she comes on, with watchful sus- 
picion.) 

Clebk. 

{Reading.) 

"Your grace shall understand, that at the receipt of 

your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that your 

messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young 



140 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

doctor of Borne; his name is Balthazar. I acquainted 
him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and 
Antonio the merchant : we turned o 'er many books to- 
gether : he is furnished with my opinion ; which, bettered 
with his own learning-, — the greatness whereof I cannot 
enough commend,— comes with him, at my importunity, 
to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseech 
you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him 
lack a reverend estimation; for I never knew so young 
a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious 
acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commen- 
dation." 

Duke. 
You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes: 

{Looking of, through door R. U. E.) 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 

(Enter Poetia, R. U. E., dressed as a Doc- 
tor-of-Laws. She is attended hy So- 
LANio, Saiaeino, and Gentlemen, and 
she carries a large folio Volwrne from 
which protrude two markers. This 
volume she hands to Nerissa, as she 
passes, ivho takes it up, and, at Clerk's 
gestured invitation, lays it on large 
table L. C, and then seats herself he- 
fore table. Shylock slightly changes 
his position, so as to see better this new 
legal advocate.) 

DtTKE. 

{Continued.) 
Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? 

(Portly crosses, ascends steps to Duke's 
throne, kisses the hand which he ex- 
tends to her.) 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 141 

POKTIA, 

I did, my lord. 

Duke. 
You're welcome: take your place. 
(Portia retires backward down steps and 
takes station R. of table up L.) 
Are you acquainted with the difference 
That holds this present question in the court? 

Portia. 
I am informed throughly of the cause. — 

{Slight pause.) 
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? 

Duke. 
Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 

(Shylock moves forward, down-Stage; 
Antonio also, a little down below him.) 

Portia. 
(Gazing at him with fixed attention.) 
Is your name Shylock? 

Shylock. 
{Gazing steadily before him,.) 

Shylock is my name. 

Portia. 
Of a strange nature is the suit you follow; 
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. — 

{A gleam of fierce joy lights Shylock 's 
eyes: he makes no other sign, no move- 
ment. Portia now addresses Antonio.) 



142 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

You stand within his danger, do you not? 

Antonio. 
Ay, so he says. 

POETIA. 

{QuicMy, as though the answer might raise 
another point, — a question of fact. 
Shylock's hand steals to Ms breast, 
where he has placed his Bond, as he 
looks toward Antonio and waits to 
hear what reply he will make to Pobtia.) 
Do you confess the bond? 



Antonio. 



I do. 



POBTIA. 

[After an instant, and as though nonplused.) 
Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shylock. 
{Turning slowly toward her, as he speaks.) 
On what compulsion must I? tell me that? 

Pobtia. 
(Impulsively, yet speaking very simply.) 
The quality of mercy is not strain 'd, — 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath; it is twice bless 'd, — 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown; 
His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 143 

Wherein doth, sit the dread and fear of kings; 

But mercy is above this sceptered sway, — 

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 

It is an attribute to God himself; 

And earthly power doth then show likest God's 

When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 

Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 

That, in the course of justice, none of us 

Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 

The deeds of mercy. (Pause.) I have spoke thus much 

To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 

Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 

Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 

Shtlook. 
My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law ! 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 

Portia. 
Is he not able to discharge the money? 

Bassanio. 
Yes, here I tender 't for him in the court ; 
Yea, thrice the sum : if that will not suffice, 
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 

, (With great feeling.) 

If this will not suffice, it must appear 
That malice bears down truth. (To Duke, wildly.) And 

I beseech you, 
Wrest once the law to your authority: 
To do a great right, do a little wrong; 
And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

(Shylock, restraining display of emotion, 
listens anxiously for the reply to this 



144 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

appeal — and, when it comes, he is 
deeply exultant.) 

Portia. 

{With strong gesture of negation.) 
It must not be; there is no power in Venice 
Can alter a decree established: 
'Twill be recorded for a precedent; 
And many an error, by the same example, 
Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 

Shylock. 
A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Daniel ! — 
{Turns toward Poetia.) 

wise young judge, how I do honor thee! 

Portia. 

{To Shylock.) 

1 pray you, let me look upon the bond. 

Shylock. 
{Eagerly, and complying.) 
Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 

(Shylock, as he speaks, takes Bond from 
inside his dress, and hands it to Portia : 
she takes it, hut keeps her eyes fixed 
on his.) 

Portia. 
Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer 'd thee. 

Shylock. 
An oath, an oath, I have an-X)atli in heaven : 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? 
No, not for Venice. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 145 

POBTIA. 

(Opening and glancing at Bond.) 

Why, this bond is forfeit; 
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the merchant's heart. — 

(To Shylock, urgently.) 

Be merciful: 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

(PoBTiA makes gesture as though to tear 
the Bond; Shylock lays hand on hers, 
stopping her.) 

Shylook. 
When it is paid according to the tenor. — 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; 
You know the law, your exposition 
Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
"Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear 
There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me: I stay here on my bond. 

Antonio. 
Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgment. 

(Duke signs to Pobtia.) 

POBTIA. 

Why then, thus it is: — 
You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 

Shylock. 
noble judge! excellent young man! 



146 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

POETIA. 

(Taking the folio Volume which, at a sign 
Nerissa hands to her. Opening it he- 
fore her.) 
For the intent and purpose of the law 
Hath full relation to the penalty, 
Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

{Tapping the Bond, which she has re- 
tavited.) 

Shylock, 
'Tis very true : wise and upright judge ! 
How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 

POKTIA. 

Therefore lay bare your bosom. 

(Bassanio moves as though to interpose 
his body between Antonio and Shy- 
lock.) 

Shylock. 

Ay, his breast: 
So says the bond: — doth it not, noble judge?— 
"Nearest his heart": those are the very words. 

(Shylock goes to Pobtia and, with point 
of his Jcnife, indicates the words in the 
Bond, ivhich Poetl\ still holds.) 

POETIA. 

It is so. Are there balance' here to weigh 
The flesh? 

Shylock. 
(Touching scales, in his girdle.) 
I have them ready. 



THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 147 

POBTIA. 

Have by some surgeon, Sliylock, on your charge, 
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 

Shylock. 
Is it so nominated in the bond? 

(Shylock examines the Bond, which Por- 
tia still holds, following the lines of 
it with the poimt of his hnife.) 

Portia. 
It is not so express 'd; but what of that? 
'Twere good you do so much for charity. 

Shylock, 
I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond. 

Portia. 
Come, merchant, have you anything to say? 

Antonio. 
But little : I am arm'd and well prepared. — 
Give me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well ! 
Grieve not that I am fall'n to this for you; 
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom : it is still her use 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth. 
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
Of such a misery doth she cut me off. 
Commend me to your honorable wife ; 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end; 
Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
Whether Bassanio had not once a lover. 



148 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
For, if the Jew do but cut deep enough, 
I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 

Bassanio. 
{Profoundly agitated.) 
Antonio, I am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
But life itself, my wife, and all the world. 
Are not with me esteem 'd above thy life : 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you! 

Geatiano. 
I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 
I would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 

Shylock. 
{Who has listened with a bitter sneer.) 
These be the Christian husbands ! I have a daughter,- 
Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! — 

{Fiercely, to Poetia.) 
We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence. 

Poetia. 
{Solemnly.) 
A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine: 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 

Shylock. 
Most rightful judge ! 



,THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 149 

POKTIA. 

And you must cut this flesh from off his breast: 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

Shylock. 
Most learned judge ! A sentence ! 

{Whirling to face Antonio, who, down R., 
kneels, tears open his shirt at the 
breast. Bassanio, about to throw him- 
self before Antonio, is restrained by 
Gbatiano. The Peiest advances. Spec- 
tators move, rising, some turn away. 
The Duke half rises in his seat : so, also, 
do several of the Council and the Mag- 

NIFICOES.) 

come, prepare! 
(Shylock is rushing upon Antonio. Por- 
tia speaks very quickly.) 

Portia. 
Tarry a little! there is something else. 

(Shylock is arrested in movement — his 
knife half raised.) 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood, — 
The words expressly are "a pound of flesh": 
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
But, in the cutting of it, if thou dost shed 
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 
TJnto the state of Venice. 

(Shylock, on the words "Take then thy 
bond," makes a slight, convulsive 
movement, — as though about to com- 
plete his rush upon Antonio. Portia 
rapidly enunciates the words "take 



150 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

thou thy pound of flesh," and Shylock 
is again halted hy them. At "confis- 
cate unto the state of Venice," he reels 
a little. 
An instant's pause.) 

Geatiasto, 
upright judge ! — Mark, Jew : — learned judge ! 

Shylock. 
{Writhing as though in agony and not tak- 
ing his eyes from Antonio, who rises, 
Bassanio embracing him.) 
Is that the law? 

POETIA. 

Thyself shalt see the act : 
For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd 
Thou shalt have justice,^ more than thou desir 'st. 

Geatiano. 

learned judge 1 — Mark, Jew: — a learned judge! 

Shylock. 
{Still keeping his eyes fixed on Antonio, 
convulsively clutching and loosening 
his hoAid upon knife handle.) 

1 take his offer then ; pay the bond thrice, 
And let the Christian gol 

{This is spoken with a struggle: he can 
scarce bring out the word "go" — as he 
utters it, he casts the knife from him.) 

^ Students of this play should- note that Shylock does not once 
use the word "justice." That is Portia's word. Shylock takes 
his stand unon law and demands judgment, according to law. 
— D. B. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 151 

Bassanio. 

Here is the money. 
(Shylock is about to take up several of 
the money hags from floor. And he 
moves, as though to do so, a second 
time, on "all justice.") 

POBTIA. 

Soft! 

The Jew shall have all justice ; — soft I no haste : — 

He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Geatiano. 
Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge! 

Portia. 
Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor more 
But just "a pound" of flesh: if thou tak'st more 
Or less than a just pound, — be 't but so much 
As makes it light or heavy in the substance 
Or the division of a twentieth part 
Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 
But in the estimation of a hair, — 
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gbatiano. 
A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! 
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 

Poetia. 
Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture. 

Shylock. 
Give me my principal, and let me go. 



152 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

Bassanio. 
I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 

(Shylock takes up a single money-hag 
from the pile upon the floor.) 

POETIA. 

He hath refus'd it in the open court: 

He shall have merely justice and his bond, 

Gbaxiano, 
A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel ! — 
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 

Shylock. 
(Appalled and in fear for himself.) 
Shall I not have barely my principal? 

Pobtia. 
Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shylock. 
Why, then the devil give him good of it I 

(Shylock casts the money-hag at Anto- 
nio's feet; turns toward Pobtia, takes 
from her the Bond, tears and crumples 
it, and throws it toward Antonio.) 
I'll stay no longer question. 

(Shylock moves towards door R. U. E. 
As Pobtia speaks, Geatiano, Salabino, 
and others har his way.) 

P-OBTIA. 

Tarry, Jew: 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 153 

The law hath yet another hold on you, 

{Reading from folio Volwrne.) 
It is enacted in the laws of Venice, — 
If it be prov'd against an alien, 
That by direct or indirect attempts 
He seek the life of any citizen, 
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
Shall seize one half his goods; the other half 
Comes to the privy coffer of the state; 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
In which predicament, I say, thou stand 'st; 
For it appears, by manifest proceeding. 
That indirectly, and directly too. 
Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 
Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd 
The danger formally by me rehears 'd. 
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. 

Gbatiano. 
Beg that thou may'st have leave to hang thyself; 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
Thou hast not left the value of a cord; 
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 

(Shylock slowly crosses to L. — suddenly 
collapses and falls upon floor before 
the Duke.) 

Duke. 
That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio 's ; 
The other half comes to the general state, 
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 



154 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

POBTIA. 

Ay, for the state, — not for Antonio. 

Shylock. 
Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
You take my house, when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, 
When you do take the means wherehy I live. 

POETIA. 

What mercy can you render him, Antonio? 

Geatiano. 
A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. 

Antonio. 
So please my lord the Duke and all the court 
To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
I am content ; so he will let me have 
The other half in use, to render it, 
Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
That lately stole his daughter : 
Two things provided more, — that, for this favor. 
He presently become a Christian; 
The other, that he do record a gift, 
Here in the court, of all he dies possess 'd, 
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 

(Murmur of satisfaction among Crowd.) 

Duke. 
He shall do this ; or else I do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

POETIA. 

Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say? 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 155 

Shylock. 
I am content, 

POBTIA. 

Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
(Shylock rises.) 

Shylock. 
I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 
I am not well; send the deed after me, 
And I will sign it. 

DtTKE. 

Get thee gone, but do it. 
{As Shylock begins to move toward door 
E. F. E., Ghatiano grasps him by the 
gown, detaining him.) 

Geatiano. 
In christening shalt thou have two godfathers : 
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, 
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 

(Shylock plucks away his gown from the 
grasp of Geatlino, with difficulty 
stands erect, slowly, with unsure steps 
walks toward R. F. E. ; he staggers and 
falls forivard, catching hold upon An- 
tonio to stay himself. Recognizing 
Antonio, he rallies his strength and 
passes on. The Monk raises his cruci- 
fix before Shylock, as he goes out. An 
instant's pause, then sound of jeering 
and hooting R. F. E. 

The Duke now rises and descends, 
followed by the Magnipicoes and the 



156 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

Council, also the Clekk. The Duke 
stops to speak to Poktia. After his 
speech he makes exit R. at Bach. Ex- 
eunt the Magnificoes and the Council 
L. at Back. After the dignitaries are 
off, Exeunt all Others at Back, R. and 
L., leaving only the four characters 
who are implicated in the closing pas- 
sage of this act.) 

Duke. 

{To POETIA.) 

Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 

Portia. 
I humbly do desire your grace of pardon : 
I must away this night toward Padua, 
And it is meet I presently set forth. 

Duke. 
I'm sorry that your leisure serves you not. — 
Antonio, gratify this gentleman; 
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 

(Exeunt Omnes, as above described.) 

Bassanio. 

{To POETIA.) 

Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 

Antonio. 
And stand indebted, over and above, 
In love and service to you evermore. 



THE MERCHANT OF YENICE 157 

Portia. ^ 

He is well paid that is well satisfied ; ■ — ' " ' "' " 

And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
And therein do account myself well paid; 
My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
I pray you, know me, when we meet again : 
I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 

Bassanio. 
Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further : 
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, — 
Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 

POETIA. 

You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 

{To Antonio.) 
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake; 

(To Bassanio.) 
And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you: — 
Do not draw back your hand ; I '11 take no more ; 
And you in love shall not deny me this. 

Bassanio. 
This ring, good sir, — -alas, it is a trifle! 
I will not shame myself to give you this. 

POETIA. 

I will have nothing else but only this ; 
And now methinks I have a mind to it. 

Bassanio. 
There's more depends on this than on the value. 
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 



158 THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 

And find it out by proclamation: 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 

PoKTIA. 

I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 

You taught me first to beg; and now methinks 

You teach me how a beggar should be answer 'd. 

Bassanio. 
Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 
And, when she put it on, she made me vow 
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 

POETIA. 

That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. 

An if your wife be not a mad-woman, 

And know how well I have deserv'd this ring. 

She would not hold out enemy for ever 

For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 

{The same business has passed, in dvmb 
show between Nekissa and Gbatiano as 
between Bassanio and Poetia.) 

Antonio. 
My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring: 
Let his deservings, and my love withal, 
Be valu'd 'gainst your wife's commandment. 

Bassanio. 
{Pulling off ring, which he gives to An- 
tonio.) 
Give him the ring; -- 
And in the morning early will we three 
Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 159 

(Exeunt Bassanio, Antonio and Gbati- 
ANO, R. F. E. PoKTiA and Nekissa' — • 
between laughter and indignation — 
come down R,, to looTc after them; then 
turn and Exeunt R. U. E. as 

CUETAIN. 
END OF FOUETH ACT. 



FIFTH ACT. 

Scene, Belmont; A Garden to the HotrsB of Poetia. 
Time, Toward Midnight. 

Bright Moonlight, — which is, for a short 
while, obscured by drifting clouds. 

The entire Stage is backed by a Cyclo- 
rama tvhich represents the night sky, 
studded with stars. 

At Back is a wide Marble Stairway, lead- 
ing down, backward from the Stage, to a 
lower level of Garden — of which the Shrub- 
bery, dc, is visible. 

At Eight and Left of Stairway are 
curved Marble Seats, elevated above stage- 
level. These are backed by Box Hedges 
which extend off-Stage, R. and L. 

At B,. and L. Tormentors there are Dra- 
peries, and on both sides, square Marble 
Pillars. Between these and the Seats 
(masked by the Hedges) spaces for En- 
trances. 

In Center of Stage, near Front, an ele- 
vated Marble Sun Dial. 

DiscovEEED, as the Curtains open, The 
Jestee, seated C, upon base of Swn Dial — 
his Bauble beside him upon the ground. 

Jestee. 
{Singing and accompanying himself upon Lute.) 
It was a lover and Ms lass, 

With, a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

160 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 161 

That o'er the green corn-field did pass 

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding : 
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

Between the acres of the rye, 
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

These pretty country folks would lie. 
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: 

Sweet lovers love the spring. 

{As Jesteb is finishing second stanza of 
Song, Lorenzo and Jessica Entee, 
coming through opening doivn-Stage 
E. Jessica carries in her arms many 
red and yellow Roses: Jester, perceiv- 
ing them, scrambles to his feet and gets 
silently to L. of Sun Dial, where, con- 
cealed by it, he crouches, watching 
them. The lovers advance; Lorenzo 
stops Jessica, laying a hand upon one 
of her arms; she turns to him; they 
are standing R. C. ; they embrace, then 
kiss. Jester, grimacing and laughing, 
darts forward from his concealment L. 
of Sun Dial; dances around them; then, 
still laughing, rushes of, L. F. E., to 
House.) 

Lorenzo. 

(After watching Jester off, turns; looTcs 
toward Bach, then, as he speaks, up- 
ward toward Sky.) 
The moon shines bright : — in such a night as this. 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 



162 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

And they did make no noise, — in such, a night 
Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls, 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
Where Cressid lay that night. 

Jessica. 

In such a night 
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew, 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself. 
And ran dismay 'd away. 

{They are moving toward B.) 

LOBENZO. 

In such a night 
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
As far as Belmont. 

Jessica. 
And in such a night 
Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well, 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, 
And ne'er a true one. 

LOEENZO. 

And in such a night 
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 

Jessica. 
I would out-night you, did no body come; 
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 
{Music ceases.) 

(Enteb, up Stairs C, at Bach, Stephano. 
As he comes on, Re-enter L. F. E., as 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 163 

from the House, The Jesteb, ivho 
stands listening,) 

LOBENZO. 

Who comes so fast in silence of the night? 

Stephano. 
A friend. 

LoBENZO. 

A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend. 

Stephano. 
Stephdno is my name ; and I bring word 
My mistress will before the break of day 
Be here at Belmont. 

(Jester, hearing this, manifests exuberant 
joy at the imminent arrival of his mis- 
tress, dashes up-Stage and 'Exit, down 
Stairway at Bach C. 

Stephano bows as he utters the 
words "Here at Belmont" and moves 
toward L. XJ. E., where he pauses.) 

LOBENZO. 

{To Jessica.) 

Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. 

And yet no matter: — why should we go in? — 

My friend Stephino, signify, I pray you. 

Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 

And bring your music forth into the air. 

(Exit Stephano toward House L. F. E. 
LoEENZo and Jessica get down L. of 
Sun Dial, as Stephano goes off. Lo- 
renzo, as they move, glances uptvard; 
then down again, at the Dial, which is 
bathed in silvery moonlight.) 



164 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! 

Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 

Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night 

Become the touches of sweet harmony. 

Sit, Jessica. 

(Lobejstzo, as he speaks, takes off his cloak 
and spreads it for them to sit upon, 
against the base of Dial, and they both 
sit — he passing om arm arownd her so 
that she is reclining upon his breast, 
both gazing forward and up.) 
Look, how the floor of heaven 

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold 'st 

But in his motion like an angel sings, 

Still quiring to the young ey'd eherubins, — 

Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 

Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 
{Clapping hands.) 

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ! 

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 

And draw her home with music. 

(Music sounds, off L. U. E.) 

Jessica. 
(Nestling close to Lorenzo.) 
I'm never merry when I hear sweet music. 

Lorenzo. 
The reason is, your spirits are attentive. 
The man that hath no music in himself. 
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night. 



THE MERCHANT OF. YENICE 165 

And his affections dark as Erebus : 

Let no such man be trusted. — Mark the music. 

{A cloud-like obscuration of the moonlight 
now occurs. Song — Mixed Voices — 
heard from off L. U. E.) 
Come away, come away, death, 

And in sad cypress let me be laid; 
Fly away, fly away, breath; 

I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 

0, prepare it! 
My part of death, no one so true 
Did share it. 
{The Song ceases and instrumental Mtisic 
sounds on. Then Entee at Back C, 
coming up Stairway, Portia and Ne- 
EissA, followed hy Jestek. Arrived at 
head of Stairway, they pause, — the 
Jester crouched at Portia's feet, gaz- 
ing up at her with dog-like devotion.) 

Portia. 
That light we see is burning in my hall. 
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

(Lorenzo and Jessica, couched upon base 
of Sun Dial, are wrapped in reverie, 
almost as though asleep. Jester 
touches a hand of Portia and points 
out to her the lovers. Portia, swiftly 
and silently, goes down-Stage, snatch- 
ing up some roses which Jessica has 
dropped when she came on at opening 
- of Scene, and, hiding behind Dial, leans 

over it, mischievously, and drops rose 



166 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

petals upon the dreaming lovers-^at 
the same moment darting away up- 
Stage, singing these words of the Jes- 
tee's song:) 

Between the acres of the rye 
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

These pre+ty country folks would lie — 

{She hreahs off her singing and laughs 
merrily. Loeenzo and Jessica, as rous- 
ing from dream-like reverie, rise. Mu- 
sic off L. U. E. becomes softer.) 

LOBENZO. 

That is the voice, 

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 

POBTIA. 

He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo. 
By the bad voice. 

LoEENZO. 

Dear lady, welcome home. 

POETIA. 

We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, 
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
Are they return 'd? 

LoBENZO. 

Madam, they are not yet; 
But there is come a messenger before, 
To signify their coming. 

POETIA. 

(Quichly.) 

Go in, Nerissa; 
Give order to my servants that they take 



THE MEROHANT OF VENICE 167 

No note at all of our being absent; — 

(Exeunt Nekissa and Jester, who gambols 
besides her, L. F. E., as to House.) 
Nor you, Lorenzo ; — Jessica, nor you. 

(Teumpet sounds off R. U. E.) 

LOBENZO. 

Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 
We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. 

(Re-entek Neeissa L. F. E. — Moonlight 
becomes very bright again.) 

Portia. 
This night methinks is but the daylight sick; 
It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day, 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 

(Enter, coming up Stairway at Bach C, 
Bassanio, Geatiano and Antonio.) 

Portia. 
{To Bassanio.) 
You are welcome home, my lord. 

Bassanio. 
(Embracing her.) 
I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend: 
This is the man, this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

Portia. 
You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 

Antonio. 
No more than I am well acquitted of. 



168 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

POETIA. 

Sir, you are very welcome to our house: 
It must appear in other ways than words, 
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 

(Gkatiano and Neeissa have been disput- 
ing, in dumb show, during the two fore- 
going speeches.) 

Gbatiano. 
By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; 
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk! 

POETIA. 

A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter! 

Gbatiano. 
About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
That she did give me ; whose posy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 
Upon a knife, "Love me, and leave me not." 

Neeissa. 
What talk you of the posy or the value? 
You swore to me, when I did give it you, 
That you would wear it till your hour of death ; — 
And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, 
You should have been respective, and have kept it. 
Gave it a judge's clerk! No, God's my judge. 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. 

Gbatiano. 
He will, an if he live to be a man. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 169 

Nebissa. 
Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 

Geatiano. 
Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youtb, — 
A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, 
No higher than thyself, the Judge's clerk; 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee: 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

POETIA. 

You were to blame, — I must be plain with you, — 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; 
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, 
And riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
Never to part with it ; and here he stands, — 
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, 
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind cause of grief : 
An 'twere me, I should be mad at it. 

Bassanio. 
{Aside, in distressed perplexity.) 
Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, 
And swear I lost the ring defending it. 

Gbatiano. 
(With a spice of wiMicious enjoyment.) 
My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine : 



170 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

And neither man nor master would take aught 
But the two rings. 

Portia. 
(With an assumption of incredulous amazement.) 
What ring gave you, my lord? 
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 

Bassanio. 
If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
I would deny it; but you see my finger 
Hath not the ring upon it, — it is gone. 

POBTIA. 

Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
Until I see the ring. 

Neeissa. 
{To Geatiano.) 
Nor I in yours 
Till I again see mine. 

Bassanio. 

Sweet Portia, 
If you did know to whom I gave the ring. 
If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
When naught would be accepted but the ring. 
You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 

POETIA. 

(Indignantly.) 
If you had known the virtue of the ring, 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
Or your own honor to contain the ring. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 171 

You would not then have parted with the ring. 

What man is there so much unreasonable, 

If you had pleas 'd to have defended it 

"With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 

To urge the thing held as a ceremony? 

Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 

I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. 

Bassanio. 
No, by mine honor, madam, by my soul, 
No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,. 
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, 
Even he that had held up the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? 
I was enforc'd to give it to him: 
Pardon me, good lady; 
For by these blessed candles of the night. 
Had you been there, I think, you would have begg'd 
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 

POBTIA. 

Let not that doctor e'er come near my house; 
Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd. 
And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
I will become as liberal as you ; 
I'll not deny him anything I have! 

Neeissa. 
{To Gbatiano.) 
Nor I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd 
How you do leave me to mine own protection. 

Antonio. 
I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels. 



172 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 

POETIA. 

Sir, grieve not you: you're welcome notwithstanding. 

Bassanio. 
Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; 
And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
Wherein I see myself, — 

Portia. 

Mark you but that! 
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself. 

Bassanio. 
I never more will break an oath with thee. 

Antonio. 
I once did lend my body for his wealth; 
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 
Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again. 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break faith advisedly. 

Portia. 
Then you shall be his surety. Give him this ; 

(Giving ring from her finger to Antonio.) 
And bid him keep it better than the other. 

Antonio. 
{Giving ring to Bassanio.) 
Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. 

Bassanio. 
By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 173 

POBTIA. 

I had it of Mm : pardon me, Bassanio. 

Neeissa. 
And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; 
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, 
Did give me this. 

(^Giving ring from her finger to Geatiano.) 

POETIA. 

You axe all amazed: 
Here is a letter, 

{Giving one to Bassanio.) 
read it at your leisure; 
It comes from Padua, from Bellario : 
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
Nerissa there her clerk. 
Antonio, you are welcome; 
And I have better news in store for you 
Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; ' 

{Giving Antonio a letter, which he takes 
and opens.) 
There you shall find three of your argosies 
Are richly come to harbor suddenly. 

Bassanio, 
Were you the doctor, and I knew you not? 

Geatiano. 
Were you the clerk and yet I knew you not? 

Antonio. 
Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; 
For here I read for certain that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 



174 THE MEECHANT OF yENICE 

POETIA. 

How now, Lorenzo! 
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 

Neeissa. 
Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. — 

(Giving to Loeenzo a legal document.) 
There do I give to you and Jessica, 
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
After his death, of all he dies possess 'd of. 

POETIA. 

It is almost morning. 

And yet I'm sure you are not satisfied 

Of these events at full. Let us go ia; 

And charge us there upon inter 'gatories. 

And we will answer all things faithfully. 

(As she speaks the foregoing, Pobtia ex- 
tends one hand to Bassanio, and the 
other to Antonio and draws them to- 
ward L. F. E., GbatiabtO' and Neeissa, 
LoEENzo and Jessica following. As 
they Exeunt, the Jesteb Entees L. TJ. 
E., and, getting down to Sum Dial, 
drops upon its base and, half-satiric 
cally, half -wistfully, accompanying him^ 
self upon Lute, begins to sing.) 

Jestee. 
It was a lover and his lass, 

as cuetains close. 

THE END. 



